Last night I approached Bruce with a deal. I would make him tacos, if he would let me go to the store. (You know, for some veggies. And maybe an ironing board.)
Let's just assume that that will never be happening again. I think my husband might have caught on that, you know, that wasn't such a good deal.
I think he should be happy, though, because I bought lots of meat. And lord, how he does love his meat. Anyway, I also bought an ironing board, potatoes, apple juice, lightbulbs, shoes (hey, these I really DID need), and a box of wine. All perfectly reasonable items, I'm sure you'll agree.
And then on the way out of Walmart, I started getting back spasms of guilt. How could I be so frivolous? Food? We already have food! Shoes? Why not wear the old shoes until the top rips off the bottom? Isn't that what electrical tape is for? (Shit, forgot the electrical tape.) We already have two perfectly good lightbulbs in the kitchen, why do we need that extra third, anyway? Who wants ironed damn clothes? And is this house the sort of house that's going to demand their clothes be ironed once I start damn ironing them? I worry about these sorts of things, you know.
Luckily when I got home, Bruce was on the phone, and therefore it was an awkward moment for him to shout, "DIVORCE!" and then faint away dead. But I'm pretty sure that was the last time I went to the grocery store for "veggies" and came home with an 'entire Walmart'*.
Next time, DIVORCE!!
*his words, not mine. I know that Walmart has more than some vegetables and meat, and apple juice, and a pair of shoes, and an ironing board. Also lightbulbs. But they still had some stuff when I left. I swear.