This is what happened when we went to the grocery store together, the third stop in a delightful trip to the pet store for cat litter, and the medical supply store for XXX adult diapers for DOB, so in fairness, TCG was late for his nap and had already walked over 100 (!) steps.
TCG: (White knuckles grasping the bar of the shopping cart, leaning over and gasping for breath) What’s on the list?
UCC: (Turning right heading toward the item) Fiber.
TCG: Ignoring UCC and, pursuant to the dictates of Brownian motion, and wandering off in a random direction.
Rendezvousing improbably at the fiber section of the vitamin aisle.
UCC: How about these psyllium capsules, much easier than the gunk stirred into a glass of water?
TCG: What else is here? (patiently waiting for UCC to read the labels and explain the difference between “cleanse/detox” and generic Metamucil)
UCC: In the best impersonation of Sister Teresa, the Little Flower, soul of patience, reading the entire shelf. Aloud. Slowly.
TCG: Looks like the psyllium caps are easier and better than the powdered stuff.
UCC: Think so? Ok.
WISIMN: Hilarious, and I just never see that coming! I explain. You decide. Which is one of the typically, annoyingly, clinically insane things I love about shopping with you.
UCC: (Reading the next item on the list, as TCG turns, amazingly, in the exactly opposite direction. Calling out wistfully to TCG’s retreating back) I’m going this way to get A, B and C.
(Duly finding said items and staggering off looking for TCG with the shopping cart, several aisles away, out of earshot and with his back turned, inviting himself to join the conversation of some passing strangers.)
WISIMN: I have arrived at this point in the universe where Irony met Cynicism, fell madly in love, became an unwed mother, and Parody was born. Do you ever why is it that the best stuff is that which may cause drowsiness? Or, why I could never watch that meercat show after Shakespeare died? Or especially why I find solace by crawling inside a water pipe and insisting on roasting tomatoes while the outdoor temperature is in the 90s? (Aromatherapy).
UCC: Ahhh, I forgot to bring in the grocery bags. While you’re unloading and paying the cashier, I’ll run out to the car and get them. Returning with the grocery bags to find half the groceries already bagged in plastic, TCG having not mentioned to the cashier about me bringing in the recycled bags.
UCC: (Impatience bleeding through like brown crusty blood on a badly bandaged amputated leg) Ummmm…
TCG: (Innocently) What?
WISIMH: Going out in public with you reminds me of my attempts to furnish my first cramped apartment with freeway furniture – it takes almost infinite patience and lots of driving; and even then, the result may end up smelling like some strange cat’s piss. If today had a subtitle, it would be Today: as long as an alcoholic blackout, as shallow as a cookie sheet, but with the rich aromatherapeutic fragrance of a complex cesspool. If today was a metaphor it would be: when grocery shopping, TCG is as helpful as a snow plow in a monsoon.
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I remember similarly aggravating grocery store trips after G had retired early on disability. The details have, mercifully, faded, but I do recall asking a manager who wandered by (while G was on one of his own Brownian-motion side trips) to promise me, when he retired, that he would either get groceries by himself or let his wife do it — but it would not have to be a joint expedition.
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