Not surprisingly, Dearly Beloved and I have very different views on grocery shopping.
There are certain items I feel that must always be on hand in a civilized household: milk, bread, coffee, Diet Cokes, wine, toilet tissue, for instance. DB thinks that as long as there is a can in the pantry or a package in the freezer, a trip to the grocery store would be premature.
This morning he told me that he was going to the post office and asked whether there was anything he could do for me. I replied that we were out of bread.
When he said he could handle that, I asked him to check the wine rack, too, to make sure we had some. He agreed, but quickly pointed out that two items are pretty much his shopping limit.
I couldn’t resist adding, just in case… “We may need something for dinner.”
To my astonishment, he came back with, “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.”
Well, bless his heart, I thought, wondering what he had in mind. He is definitely not one of those guys who took up cooking when he retired. “Once in a blue moon” is pushing it for him. Nor does he like going out to eat in the evening.
“That’s nice,” I said. “What are you planning?”
He looked stunned by my question.
“Nothing. I just meant that I’ll eat whatever you fix. You know, I’m Mr. Malleable.”
Huh. Not my first guess.
Oh look, we have milk on hand. Just how malleable are you, Mr. M?