Do you really hate grocery shopping? Not as much as my delightful husband. It doesn't matter how disgusting the kitchen is; he will always opt to clean the kitchen rather than go with me to the commissary. Today, though, I managed to "convince" him to come with me. Also known as whining.
Things my husband does in the commissary:
1. Complains about how fast I walk.
2. Walks really slowly.
3. Eyes every tasty looking thing that isn't on the list.
4. Sighs heavily.
5. Convinces me to pick up things for him (and me) that I would normally never get.
Basically, he's a large, mostly well-behaved child.
Today, he had managed to talk me into getting some nut/fruit/granola mix and a bottle of green tea for him, and a glass bottle of lemonade for me. I was actually a little excited about the lemonade, which is why it will surprise no one that while loading the groceries onto the conveyer belt, Mr. Wino dropped the glass bottle onto his foot, where it shattered.
His foot is, thankfully, fine. Our dignity was bruised pretty hard; almost all the friends I have who work at the commissary witnessed it, and my subsequent sigh of, "THIS is why we can't have nice things!"
So, the moral of the story is that I should probably shop alone.
Wow, you guys are just as clumsy as us.
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