I was furious.
He leaned against the wall, one foot propped up behind him and told them I was a horrible grocery shopper.
“Yeah, I just really think I’m going to have to take over grocery shopping for our family. I mean she just went grocery shopping today, and the kids are hungry and I have nothing to feed them. $200 and nothing.”
I just looked at him. I’m sure my nostrils must have flared, as I bit my lip willing myself not to leap up into the air and claw his eyes out.
“Oh, really. You want to take over the job of shopping for groceries? That’s rich. I’ll tell you something, there are a whole lot of reasons why $200 of groceries buys you ‘nothing’ and none of it is my fault. Some of which may be yours. But I’m not going to get into that right now.”
My friend, who was standing beside me just laughed uncomfortably. “Oh, well. . .I wish my husband would grocery shop. . .”
I stormed out of her house (about 10 minutes later, after pretending that I didn’t care that HE JUST COMPLETELY MORTIFIED ME). Feeling so alone, so completely misunderstood, and not at all appreciated.
I grocery shop all by myself. I pack the car up by myself. I unload the car by myself. I buy ingredients to cook from scratch BY MYSELF. And never does anyone even offer to take the load off of my shoulders. And honestly, I don’t care, I don’t mind. UNTIL, they start acting as if they could do the job better.
As if YOU COULD FIRE ME IF YOUR TRIED. You crazy nut job.
I’ve been doing this job for 13 years. And admittedly, I suck at a lot of things. But, grocery shopping is not one of them. I rock at grocery shopping. If it were an Olympic event, I’m winning the Gold. EACH. AND. EVERY. TIME.
With my shoulders back and my feet squared, standing alone in the corridor, all I could think to say was, “I can’t believe you said that. I am the best grocery shopper. Better than you could ever hope to be. I’ve been doing this for the last decade of my life, and even if you did it for the next 20 years you’d NEVER be as good as me.”
Clearly crying with snot dripping, I walked away, put on my pajamas, got under my sheets and ignored him for the 3 hours until he finally walked into the room and stupid giggles, “What up dog?” and some other stupid dork comments.
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME DOG. I AM NOT A DOG. I AM YOUR WIFE. YOUR WIFE WHO HATES THAT WORD. STOP IT!”
He walked over to the bed and hopped right in, pulling himself right up to me so that I could feel every breadth he was taking. In a whisper he said, “I’m sorry.” And then raising his voice a little louder than a hush he said, “You know I only said that because you’re my best friend. And that’s why men call each other ‘dogs’ because they are each other’s best friend. But you’re mine.”
Then he kissed me on the forehead, and pulled his ridiculous self out of bed, turned out the lights and walked away.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - -
Waaaahhhaaaaatttt am I supposed to do with that?
Now. . . . .I can’t even really be mad.
And the really ridiculous part is, I want to go over to him right now, and shake him and say, “Are you serious? Am I really, really, your best friend? I mean I know you love me the most and everything, but if you’re serious about what you are saying right now this changes everything. well. . . not really. . .but wow. . .that is really amazing. And good to know. This really is information you should have shared before now.”
I’m so confused. Marriage is so confusing. It’s nothing at all like I imagined. Sweet, and bitter, contrasting and ultimately confusing my taste buds making me wonder how such a sweet lovely gorgeous jewel colored fruit could have this strange acrid taste.
That I love.
It’s so weird. I’m so weird. All of us are so weird.
I’m completely addicted to the taste of this smoothie lately. Though to be honest, I take it quite sweet, so the natural bitterness of the fruit is quite subdued.
1 1/2 cups Grapefruit juice
6 0z. Strawberry yogurt
1 1/2 cups Ice
Honey, to taste