CARMELITA DESSERT SQUARES

SHOPPING WITH THE SUPERMARKET KING
BY TRACY BECKERMAN

There are a lot of things my husband does well.

Shopping, however, is not his forte.

I learned after I sent him to the drugstore to get me some Anbesol for my canker sore, and he came home Anusol, a product for hemorrhoids.

“It was an honest mistake,” he admitted.

“Yes, I can see how you might have been confused,” I said.  “One product goes in your mouth, the other goes on your …”

“I get the point,” he interrupted.

In his defense, I have to admit I spend a lot more time in the drugstore and grocery store than he does, and therefore I’m much more familiar with the names and uses of all the products out there than he is.

And in all fairness, there are things that he knows that I am clueless about.

Whereas he is fluent in hardware-ese, I can’t tell the difference between a wrench and a pair of pliers.  I know if I were set loose in Home Depot with instructions to buy some caulk, I’d probably wander around aimlessly for hours until I was found curled up in the fetal position, mumbling to myself in the drywall aisle.

Of course, I think it’s great that he even offers to go out and get some of these things when we need them.

But as much as I appreciate the help, when he offers, I have to pause, wondering what will actually be in the bag when he returns from the shopping trip.

“Give me a very detailed list,” he said one night, “and I’ll get exactly what you want.”

“I don’t make lists,” I explained.  “I just know what we need, and I get it.  It’s the same every week.”

“If you want me to get the right stuff, write it down.”

So I did.

I wrote down everything I could think of in what brand and what size and what color, and it took so long that I realized I could probably have gone to the supermarket and back twice in the time it took me to make a husband-proof shopping list.

Still, I reminded myself that I appreciate the help, and with fingers and toes crossed, I sent him off on his shopping adventure.

“Enjoy your free time,” he told me on his way out.  “Go take a bubble bath.”

A half-hour went by.  Then an hour.

There were five things on the list.

The phone rang.

I got out of the tub.

“OK, I think I have everything,” he said.  “One question.  I found the detergent, but there are, like seven different kinds,” he said a little less confidently.  “Do you want regular, Fresh Air, Free and Clear, Rainshower, Linen or Morning Bloom?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said.  “Fresh Air, I guess.”

“OK,” he said before hanging up.

I got back in the tub.

The phone rang.

I got out of the tub.

“You said you want the 64-ounce size, but if you get two 32-ounce sizes, the second one is half off.

“That’s fine,” I said.

“OK,” he said before hanging up.

I got back in the tub.

The phone rang.

I got out of the tub.

“I have another question,” he said.

“Aaauuugghhhh,” I yelled as I dripped bubbles on the floor.  “I don’t care!  Get whatever you want.”

Half an hour later, he walked in the door.

“I got everything you wrote down and some things that weren’t on the list,” he said with a sly smile.

I groaned, thinking about the 10 boxes of Mallomars that were probably in the bag.

From behind his back, he handed me some fashion magazines and a bouquet of flowers.

I gave him a hug and smiled sheepishly.

“So … do you need anything at the hardware store tomorrow?”

~Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, “Barking at the Moon:  A Story of Life, Love and Kibble.”
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