My first problem was that I seriously didn't know what the value of anything was because Karla used to do all the shopping. I knew how much a Mountain Dew, a Snickers bar, and a six pack of Guinness cost but, beyond that, I had no idea.
So when it comes to perusing through the sale ads, I wouldn't know a good deal if it smacked me in the face.
The second problem with couponing is that I simply don't have the patience to sift through all the ads in the Sunday paper; looking at a bunch of measly twenty five cent off coupons.
But to Karla it's an exhilarating and joyful game. She loves cutting up coupons, going shopping, and, upon arriving home, giddily tell me that she spent thirty four dollars but saved eighteen in the process. I have no idea how she could find any of this fascinating. I would almost rather sit through hours of chick flicks than sift through coupons......Almost.
Besides, who am I to deprive Karla of such joy? I am content to let her dig through the CVS, Walgreens, and Target ads while I do.....do.....um......just about anything else.
So, for now, I am going to do my grocery shopping with a list and whatever coupons Karla happens to find. Maybe, in time, I'll start to take an interest in it and do it myself......Maybe.
Anyway, thanks to an organized and throughly mapped out list, the grocery shopping hasn't been that bad; I've been able to get in and out of the store in a reasonable amount of time. It also helps that I'm going to the store and 8:30 in the morning when there is hardly anyone there.
Not that I haven't gotten in people's way. For every guy shopper in the store there are, I would say, at least five women. And they can all fly around the aisles with their eyes closed.
I don't know how many times I've turned around and seen a woman patiently waiting for me to fumble through my list, find what I need, and get the hell out of the way.
"Sorry, excuse me." I say seemingly a thousands time per shopping excursion.
"No rush....It's okay." The nice lady would smile and reassure.
But there is always that one person that has to be a jerk.
I'm standing in the meat aisle where I just grabbed a package of chicken drumsticks when this little old lady rockets in, slams her cart into mine, and then asks in a loud and haughty voice, "ARE YOU ALMOST DONE?!"
What I said: "Yes, sorry ma'am. Let me get out of your way."
What I thought: "You rotten, old hag. I would just love to smack that crusty looking rouge off your wrinkly assed cheek."
I smiled politely and carted myself away. Then I started to feel bad for thinking the way I did. Maybe she just crashed into my cart because her eyes are bad...You know, like she has no depth perception. Or maybe she was so loud when she spoke because her hearing aid broke. Maybe she had just went through a major life altering event.
So let us review the emotional spectrum of my most recent social interaction.....Aggravation and rage followed immediately by guilt and remorse....That doesn't make me a little neurotic, does it?
Yeah....Moving on.
There are a couple of things I have learned about shopping.
1. Don't ever mess with someone's brand loyalty.
In my mind peanut butter is peanut butter is peanut butter. I have absolutely no preference at all; it could be Always Save peanut butter and I wouldn't see it as any different than any other name brand. It all sticks to the roof of my mouth the same.
But Toby will vehemently beg to differ. The first time I came home from shopping he grumbled about the Planters peanut butter. The second time he went ape shit about Peter Pan.
"MOM......DOESN'T DAD KNOW WE'RE A JIF FAMILY???? AARRGH!!!"
Holy crap.....easy partner. I'll hook you up on the next round. So on my next trip I found the biggest freaking container of Jif I could possibly find. My goodness.
I don't know what the big deal is. Perhaps Toby can't handle the thought of a monocled peanut or a little boy in green tights selling peanut butter, and so, heaps his praise and loyalty to the mascot less Jif. Beats me.......and I just don't taste any difference.
Oh, and one more thing....For the love of God, it has to be creamy Jif and not chunky.
2. Recycled plastic bags suck.
I should have seen this one coming. Not but a few days ago, a friend of mine (hi, Stephanie) was complaining about how weak the new bags at the grocery store were and how easily they rip.
But, without thinking I managed to wedge a gallon of milk, two glass jars of Prego (another product my family is very loyal to) a jar of red peppers and a package of hamburger into the thin, gray receptacle that was supposed to help me get my groceries home in an efficient and safe fashion.
When I got home I pulled the bag out of the trunk and saw it begin to stretch thin from the weight of the contents it held. She was about to bust.
Now I could have just set it back down into the trunk, pulled the items out and made an extra trip to get every thing into the house without incident. But did I?
Hell NO!!! I made a run for it; from the driveway, down a small flight of stairs, and onto the patio. I was just a couple of feet away from the front door when the bag finally gave out.
What followed next was one of those slow motion moments everyone gets now and then in their lives. I could see the jars of Prego slowly dropping out of the rip in the bag.
"NNNNOOOOOOOO!!!!!" I lunge as I watched the jars of Prego descend to it's doom upon the brick patio. Then, a miracle (okay, a small miracle) happened. Both jars bounced and rolled harmlessly into the yard. Today was my lucky day.
I breathed a sigh of relief and found that the jar of peppers had also survived the crash.
I unlocked the front door and hummed a happy tune. All is right with the world.
Then I found out later that I forgot something on my list........Dammit, man.
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