Mr. Observant strikes again

There’s something to be said about a man who goes grocery shopping. It’s fantastic. They go in the store for 4 things, and come back out with 4 things. A feat I have yet to master. They get in and get out, no funny business. This is all well and good…But sometimes it’s not. Men don’t really like to read.. 

To date my most favorite grocery story is the ‘polenta purchase’. My poor hunny was sent on a mission that was set to fail before it began. He had no idea what polenta was, where to find it, or what it might even begin to look like. “Stone ground polenta” was written on the list. I was as specific as I could be, and more confident than I should have been.  He circled the store a few times, and like a true man did not dare to ask for assistance. He had two bags in hand. Looked back and forth at them, right hand, left hand, eanie meany miney mo..and he came home with a bag of “stone ground white rice flour” and a shoulder shrug because, “at least [he] got half of it right!” We didn’t eat polenta that night. But boy did I giggle. 

This brings me to today’s trip on the way home from church. Three things…milk, waffle mix, and sausage. He has bought all of these things before and he knows them well. I stayed in the car confident it would be a success, not even giving it a second thought. So I peer into the grocery bag and I see milk, sausage, and waffle mix..and burst into laughter. My giggles got the best of me and I couldn’t even explain to my bewildered man what I found so funny. I asked him if he had become lactose intolerant overnight and pointed out the label “100% lactose free” highlighted in blue on top of the carton. His reply “Well they need to make that bigger!” Mr. Observant strikes again! The carton we usually buy is pink, but this one was purple and he feels this is also misleading. I’ll be sure to notify the milk carton company.  So eventually we both start cracking up and making faces in the car, thinking of the way this will taste, smacking and clicking our tongues in hilarious disgust.

Coffee is gonna taste weird for a while. But I have a feeling I’ll be giggling every time I pour it. {that or a second, supervised, grocery run will be in order}

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