Why Does Anyone Wait Until Saturday Afternoon To Go To The Grocery Store?


Late Saturday afternoon I heard the General ask, “Do you want to go with me to the grocery store?” I was sitting on the sofa at the time. I was apparently somewhere between partially awake and sound asleep. I can’t recall what episode of HGTV I was watching, but it obviously wasn’t capturing my full attention. I remember uttering, “Sure”. I don’t think there was an inkling of sarcasm in my response, but the last thing I wanted to do was go to the grocery store.

So is it a game we play? We’ve been married all of my life and the General knows I’d rather be hit in the head with a sock full of rocks before I’d voluntarily go to the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon. What I can’t understand is why this scenario repeats itself on a regular basis. The General lives by certain rules of conduct. With the exception of buying groceries, she never (repeat never) waits until the last minute to do anything. She is organized, has a “To Do List” of things she wants to accomplish, executes her mission and completes her tasks. There is never a kink in the armor. She is as predictable as the hands on a clock. They always go clockwise. She routinely maintains her laundry lists of things to accomplish and never varies from her routine.

As I’ve mentioned many times, she is predictable. When the General prefaces a question with “Do you want to…”, that triggers something in my psyche that automatically reframes what I’d really prefer as an outcome and I find myself pushing a grocery basket.

Saturday proved to be different. She asked if I wanted to go. I made the obligatory “sure” response and when I next awakened, I discovered she wasn’t home. She obviously had gone to the grocery store without me. At least, that was my assumption. A short time later she returned and I went to the garage and unloaded the groceries.

As an explanation for her absence, she voluntarily said she knew that I really didn’t want to go to the grocery store, so she opted to let me sleep. I was grateful for her kindness, but also confused by her confession. If she already knows that I don’t want to go to the grocery store, why does she invariably ask me if I want to go?

Could her kindness in letting me sleep rather than push the issue of my going to the grocery store have something to do with my devoting all of Saturday morning to cleaning her car? If that’s the case, I’ll make that trade-out any time. If it keeps me out of HEB on a Saturday afternoon, I’ll wash and vacuum her car every Saturday morning.

Actually, on Saturday morning after I discovered a product that worked in removing the tar and oil from the car, I enjoyed engaging in the process. Truthfully, the two of us gave her car a bath like it’s never had since we purchased it. There wasn’t a place on that car that didn’t get scrubbed. After ensuring all of the oil and tar had vanished, I rinsed the car off and went to the car wash in Dripping Springs to wash it again. Throw in vacuuming and drying the car with a chamois and it looked better than new.

Thinking about the process of cleaning the car reminded me of my dad. He took pride in driving a vehicle that was clean and shiny. He routinely devoted the time on a Saturday at least two or three times a year to wax the car. I remember when we were little, he’d let us take a soft cloth and help him remove the dried residue of wax off the car. As I recall, he said the wax protected the finish.

Embarrassingly as an older adult, I can’t remember waxing a car in years. I’d like to believe that the improved painting process along with the clear coat finish applied to the car negates the need to wax a vehicle. Yet, how can that be? While I was looking through the auto care section at the automotive store, I saw all types of car wax and polish. Maybe I need to look at the owners manual and reference car care? I’m probably negligent and don’t even know it.

I did notice when I drove my truck to church yesterday morning that the vehicle registration expired in July. I don’t drive the truck often. I’ve had it three years and it has just under 12,000 miles on it. What I can’t understand is how the oversight in lapse of registration could have occurred.

When I asked the General she was also puzzled. Actually, she manages anything that requires writing a check. When the renewal notice comes from the County, she routinely handles getting the form returned and the check mailed. My job is to apply the sticker when it comes back from the County. She didn’t recall getting a renewal notice. She also said she was expecting a renewal notice for her car. Her registration expires in September.

In typical fashion, once the General became aware of the problem, she resorted to finding the solution. She immediately got online and discovered the county doesn’t have our correct mailing address associated to our vehicles. We now have a post office box and apparently failed to update records related to our vehicle registrations.

Quick as a flash, she had the problem solved and the new registration requested and paid for by using our credit card. She also changed the mailing address associated to my truck and her car. Efficient! The lady is ever so efficient!

I guess that brings me full circle to the question I pondered earlier. Why does the General ever wait until Saturday afternoon to go to the grocery store for anything? Better yet, why does she routinely ask if I want to go?

Perhaps the only probable answer is, “She likes my company.”  I  guess that means I am blessed beyond my deserving.

All My Best!



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