Shopping is getting more difficult, I think

By Mikel Kelly

, Jul 22, 2010

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The value that I bring to grocery shopping day is rapidly diminishing.

I can’t read the labels on boxes and cans without my Fred Meyer reading glasses. Same goes for the coupons that the other person who lives at our house (OPWLAOH) religiously clips out of the newspaper every Sunday.

Sometimes, I can sort of make out the picture, but that can be dangerous, and I often come back with what I thought was frozen pizza when the coupon was actually for tortilla shells or Swiffer Sweeper refills.

I really would like to be of more help on shopping day, but I’m not really trusted with very important decisions, like which one of the 19 different kinds of Tide detergent to get (original, Ultra Liquid, 2X Ultra, New Tide Plus Febreze, Free for Coldwater, Tide with Bleach, With Dawn Stainscrubbers, Free & Gentle, etc. ), even though I am officially in charge of laundry at home, because the coupon is always good for every single one of them.

I’m also not very often allowed to push the cart, especially those extra-large ones at WinCo or Costco, because my shopping partner (OK, my shopping leader) is scared to death that I’m going to run over her when she makes one of her sudden, unannounced stops in the produce department to squeeze mangoes or poke a cantaloupe.

I may have clipped her in the heel back in the early ’80s, but I swear that hasn’t happened for a long, long time. You see, the OPWLAOH never forgets anything – and she has major trust issues. (Every time there’s a story on the news about an unfaithful husband, she glares at me and tells me all the painful, secret and potentially deadly things she would do to me if I “ever did anything like that.” And, if the news item is about a serial killer or a child molester or simply a major creep, like Bernie Madoff, she always asks, “How does it feel to be a maaaaaan?” – always dragging out the word “man” like it leaves a really bad taste in her mouth to even have to say it aloud.)

And, I have to admit, I find it astounding that she thinks I should go ahead of her with the cart and just know somehow where she’s going to go next. This presents a huge logistical problem because I can’t even read my own mind, let alone hers. So my usual MO is to follow about 10 feet behind her, like a stalker or a cop tailing a suspect. If she turns to look at me, I have to pretend to be feeling tomatoes or reading a newspaper.

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