A list that takes Steve 20 minutes with travel time will take me up to two hours.
My grocery lists are another issue; Steve hates my lists. I add things as they pop in my head, so I’ll have wax paper sandwiched between tofu and dental floss. Steve likes things chunked according to their grocery family.
Groceries don’t have families, Steve.
His impatience with my grocery-shopping habits have resulted in him doing most of our shopping, which works out really well for me. It means I don’t have to do most of our shopping. He still has to endure my willy-nilly lists. Send sympathy to steve at hellofisher dot com.
When we moved to Vancouver, Spud came into our lives. Groceries began magically appearing at our door every Thursday evening in large, blue Rubbermaid containers. It was my job to place our weekly order, which was clickety-clack easy. But, as mentioned, I’m the terrible-est grocery shopper. So terrible that after 6 months I began missing the weekly Wednesday afternoon order deadline—even with TWO reminder alarms on my iPhone. GUYS, I CAN’T EVEN VIRTUAL GROCERY SHOP.
There must be an award for that.
Steve’s been forced back to the grocery store.
Sad times. Send sympathy to steve at hellofisher dot com.
Last night Steve took Emma to her swim lesson and I promised to order Spud while they were gone so we’d have groceries by Thursday night. I asked him to pick up a couple things to tie us over for two days, but we didn’t discuss what things. Once Steve and Emma left, I got busy tending to Very Important Matters (that’s what we call social media where I come from), and forgot to turn on my phone.
Eventually I stumbled on an Instagram photo Steve had tweeted.
I responded that after 15 years of marriage, he should know I love ketchup on my cereal.
This morning after he left for work, I tweeted my own Instagram photo.
Guess who forgot to place the Spud order last night? I say we pitch a tent in Costco and call it home.
What strange things do you put ketchup on?
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