Nesting

This weekend, I discovered the true test of a serious relationship: grocery shopping together. My boyfriend works weekends, so I typically do our grocery shopping for the week by myself. I find it weirdly relaxing. Even in a cramped city grocery store, jammed with other weekend shoppers, a sense of calm overtakes me. I don't even notice the screaming children, irritated shoppers and bitter employees. I am consumed with getting the most for my money and achieving my goal of not having to return to the store for another week.

While at dinner last night, JB (the boyfriend) volunteered to shop with me after dinner, so that he could help carry the heavy bags. Doesn't that sound like a kind, sensitive offer? I thought so at first, so I consented. Within minutes of entering the grocery store, however, I learned my lesson -- NEVER let him shop with me again. I got agitated at the overzealous way in which he noticed every single product on every single shelf. As he pointed out the disgusting looking potato salad in the deli aisle, I took off at top speed, pushing the cart into the next aisle. I rounded the corner so quickly, I probably burned cart wheel rubber. If I could keep him focused on keeping up with me, maybe he wouldn't pick up the jumbo jar of pickles, or the additional bag of chips. This worked for the most part, until he got way too concerned that the creamsicles might melt, as we entered the last aisle to pick up bread before going to check out. "Are you sure bread is all you need? We can't wait too long, or the creamsicles won't be as good. Are you sure?" I let out a primal yell, as I unleashed the last half hour's worth of frustration at him. Ok, perhaps primal yell is overstating, but I did let loose a tirade about JB ruining my zen shopping experience.

To be fair, JB is a boyfriend of the highest order. He is an enthusiastic, happy guy, and it makes perfect sense that he would grocery shop that way, too. I'd never want to change him.