Every other Thursday, Hubby and I have a date day. Yeah, I know I said in a previous blog that I thought the idea of dating one’s spouse was rather dopey. I still feel that way, but we have a routine where we get to spend time together, so we refer to it as our “date” day. What is this exciting adventure? A trip to the commissary to stock up on groceries. Since Hubby and I rarely get any alone time, this ritual trek to the grocery store is about as close as we get to an actual “date.” It simply doesn’t get any more romantic than that. At least with us. I even let him push the cart so he can feel macho.
The only problem is he keeps wandering off and adding things to the cart that we don’t need. This is why we have twenty cans of diced tomatoes on the shelf and fifteen packages of chili mix in case he decides to make chili. Then when he does decide to make chili, he goes out and buys more tomatoes and chili mix because he doesn’t remember what we have at home. He is fixated on some aisles, like the one with the baggies and Saran wrap. Don’t ask me why. Whenever we get close to that aisle, he abandons me by the bananas and fresh vegetables to peruse that aisle. He could care less about picking out the nicest summer squash or zucchini which he won’t eat, so he leaves me on my own. But he always calls across the store to see if we need any baggies or paper plates. Then, of course, he can’t hear my answer and we have a shouting match. Why he can’t wait one minute until we actually turn the corner to that aisle is beyond me. It’s not as if we’re on a time crunch and have to team shop.
He also tends to get stuck in the aisle with the light bulbs and the fiber gummies. (Thank goodness they don’t sell electronics at the grocery or I would never get him out.) Sometimes I take the cart and venture on without him, especially since he is one of those shoppers who leaves the cart in the middle of the aisle while searching for something. But sometimes he does the same to me. Yesterday I had to chase him down with my arms loaded with bottles of Gatorade as he hightailed it up the aisle pushing the grocery cart like the devil was on his heels. If we could just stick together and confer with one another about what items we need and what items I have coupons for, life would be much simpler. But, no, without consulting me to see if I have a coupon for thirty cents off one brand of dishwasher detergent, he will buy another brand, and it is only when we get to the cash register that I realize I’ve lost out on that thirty cents. Yesterday, he let a whole corned beef go through the checkout without pulling off the three- dollars-off coupon on the package. Three dollars! Now I have to buy another corned beef to use that coupon.
But at least Hubby isn’t like some men I see sitting on a bench patiently waiting for their wives to shop. Nope, he wants to spend quality time with me, for which I give him kudos. Yesterday, we didn’t need much at the store, which meant we only piled up one cart and spent a little over three hundred dollars. I could probably save money if I left him home—at least on tomatoes and chili mix—but I would miss out on our semi-monthly date day.
We loaded up the truck, then came home and put away our haul. Then Hubby suggested we go out to dinner. Are we the only ones who spend a small fortune at the grocery store and then don’t have anything to cook for dinner? Regardless, I counted it as a bonus. I got two dates with Hubby in one day.