Making a List, Wrecking It Twice

April 16, 2006

In this house, it’s my wife who’s in charge of buying things. This should surprise no one who knows us well at all. My wife is the practical, down-to-earth, well-reasoned, wicked smart, and generally wonderful sort of person who can be trusted with important purchases.

I, on the other hand, am the blithering, addled, pants-on-backwards sort of moron who shouldn’t be allowed to operate an electric toothbrush without adult supervision. But sometimes I get to help. I like to help.

List, Unadulterated

Take, for instance, our most recent grocery list, shown to the right.

(Click on any image in the series for an embiggened version.)

This is one of my wife’s typical grocery shopping lists. Note the responsible choices she makes on our behalf. Nutritious foods, like ‘yogurt’, ‘fruit’, and ‘asparagus’. Necessities, such as ‘milk’ and ‘dishwasher detergent’.

Even her penmanship is commendable. A handwriting analyst would look at this list, noting her bold strokes and elegant loops, the curvature of her ‘c’ and the strong confidence oozing from her ‘s’, and say:

‘Now here’s an impressive young woman who appears to have it all figured out. Watch out for her!‘

Typically, I leave the grocery planning in her more than capable hands. Getting involved in the process would only muck things up, and we’d end up with nothing but three weeks’ worth of HoHo’s and prune juice to eat. Again.

Once in a while, though, I make a small request. I’ll notice that we’re out of, say, microwave popcorn or jalepeno bean dip, and I’ll mention it to the missus. Her response, invariably, is this:

‘Okay, put it on the list.‘

“Remember, I’m like Garey Busey at a free vodka giveaway — no good can possibly come from getting me involved.”

She says this to test me, of course. She realizes that under most conditions, I’m not going to actually touch the list. Remember, I’m like Garey Busey at a free vodka giveaway — no good can possibly come from getting me involved.

Besides, my wife will pick up on anything important that we need. She eats most of the same foods I do, so she’s all over it when we’re low on the basics — bread, OJ, salsa, cold cuts, and the like.

(And beer. Did you notice that, on the list? Beer! I didn’t tell her; she listed it all by herself.

God, do I love that woman.)

This week, though, we were out of pickles. Sammich pickles — and my wife doesn’t make sammiches at home. She prefers hot meals, made on the stove or in the microwave. I’m not allowed to play with ‘burny things’, so I make sammiches instead. With pickles.

A Pickled List

So I told her we were out of pickles. She said, ‘Put it on the list!‘ So, finally, I did. The new list is on the right.

See how I don’t exude ‘responsible adult’ so much? I imagine that same handwriting expert as above, examining my wobbly ‘P’ and misshapen ‘K’ and proclaiming:

‘Now here’s a four-year-old child who appears to be mildly retarded. Watch out for him!‘

*sigh* The barbs I endure for my kosher dill slices.

Having already sullied the list once, I decided to scour the kitchen, looking for other low supplies the missus might miss. Mostly, we were okay — popcorn, check. Microwave burritos, check. Lik-M-Aid, with emergency supply of Stix, check. Only… hey, that bag of Chips Ahoy in the pantry is looking a little light, isn’t it?

The Final List

See? I told you I liked to help. I’m not about to actually go into the store, of course — and she’ll probably strap me to a chair and feed me prune juice when she sees the new list — but at least I can feel as though I’m part of the process.

And I’ll be able to make a decent sammich, with dessert to boot. Grocery shopping is fun!