Have you noticed some people, i.e. husbands, simply aren’t geared for grocery shopping in the giant world of super markets. You can spot them racing up and down the aisles, sparks flying from their cart wheels, frantically trying to fine the food section before the store closes. (who am I kidding, these stores never close, but I had to end the sentence somehow) It’s disconcerting to buy groceries in a store that sells TV’s, cell phones and computers alongside the cheddar cheese and Listerine. Who wants to stand in line holding two lemons behind a fellow paying for a hundred dollar charcoaler?
Used to, you could ask your husband to stop by the store and pick up a carton of milk on the way home. And at worse he’d come home with a couple of jars of olives, artichoke hearts and cashew nuts. Now, with all the super market splendor at his fingertips, he comes out of the store lugging four yard chairs, wind chimes, a convection oven and a coffee maker that sings you to sleep.
It’s taking impulse buying to a whole new level. Forget the milk.