So I needed something for dinner; the things I had on hand do not agree with my present state. We also needed dog food and some other essentials (God frowns on starving your pets for your own convenience.) So Husband valiantly offered to stop by Kroger on the way home.
I hate having to do it this way, but now that I don’t drive it’s become one of the side effects folks seldom talk about. But whenever I do this I always at least put thought into what I ask for. If he’s stopping at Walgreens I only ask for things from the drive-through, no matter how much I might like something from inside. If he stops at Kroger I try to only ask for things at the front of the store or in the aisles next to the register. That played a large part in my request for pasta for dinner.
Except they’re remodelling our Kroger. And the refrigerated pasta case which has lived ten feet from the register rank for the past FIFTEEN FREAKING YEARS was just this weekend relocated to parts unknown. Parts so unknown that the helpful(?) Kroger employee had no idea himself.
My efforts to make an in-and-out grocery run possible for my poor spouse seriously backfired. He did three laps around the store, and didn’t come home until he found the cranny in which the case had been squirrelled away.
On the bright side, he has now declared that the phrase “Going Postal” can be replaced with “Going Kroger”.
In a semi-related note, anecdotes like this are why I find misandry so repulsive. I realise that man-bashing is a trendy part of our culture, but when I see what my man goes through just to take care of his family and “do right by his wife and best friend” (his words) I have to say it saddens me. There are plenty of good men out there. If only their wives don’t drive them insane for cheese tortellini.