I love grocery shopping for my wife. I mean I love grocery shopping for our family, so that my wife doesn’t have to do the shopping. Save your letters people.
It’s therapeutic and a challenge.
On Fridays, I get home from work after a long week of this and of that, and settle in close to the grocery list maker, or not, depending on her day. Beware of wife. Whew.
We discuss the menu for the following week and decide what’s in the freezer. Do we need to buy chicken?
“No, I’ve got some in the freezer.”
Luckily D.W.Y.L night saves a little time while in the store. D.W.Y.L. night is “do what you like night.” That’s the night of the week when we say grab what you can and fend for yourself. We do feed the six-year-old and six-month-old. Don’t worry grandparents. It’s not survival of the fittest around the homestead.
“Harris Teeter’s got BOGO (which I learned is the hip way of saying buy one, get one free) on the London Broils,” my wife says. “If they’re not too crazy (and that means priced too high), pick up two of those,” she tags on. Who created BOGO? That must have come from someone trying to text faster, and went with BOGO.
I’m not careless with the cart when I shop, but I am trying to set the world speed record for buying a week’s groceries when I’m at the store of choice. If it’s Walmart, I peruse the garden and fishing sections. That’s cool. I even discovered body wash for men. Yeh, that’s a metrosexual kind of comment. I tried it. I’m not that impressed. Although, I think I smell better.
The only problem with shopping at night is that I don’t get as many free samples. The free samples are great if you want a quick lunch. I can make a few snips of bread, sliced ham and square of cheese go a long way on a Saturday. On Friday night, all of the freebies are gone unless you want cantaloupe that’s been out since 9 a.m. Ugh.
At the checkout, I’m packed down like a seven-year-old Boy Scout, minus the canteen. I do however have my trusty Diet Dr. Pepper, my partner on this journey from eggs to Elle Magazine. I learned to bag groceries in high school, so I bag my own goods when I can. Hand over those coupons to the cashier or you’ll get in the car with them in your pocket. I do.
Off to the car and I’m the husband of the week again (maybe) for helping around the house. I pull into the driveway, unload the groceries and my wife welcomes me home.
And I forgot the book of stamps. Always happens.
Any husbands out shopping for groceries?
Jay Hardy is the father of a six-year-old and a baby in Holly Springs. He's a former sports photographer and reporter for WRAL-TV.