Sometimes my wife does the grocery shopping by herself. Other times, I tag along and try to help, but generally, I’m just the cart driver. Either way, as man of the house, it’s my responsibility to lug the goods upstairs from the garage to the kitchen. I take it as an opportunity to see how many
of those little plastic bags I can dangle from each hand without cramping up, dropping anything, or
scuffing up the paint on the walls along the way. I try to make it seem like an impressive demonstration
of my strength and dexterity, but we both know that I’m really just lazy and like to get it all in one trip
if I possibly can.
The two of us usually share the job of unloading and putting away, and I wish I could say that my materials management experience extends to my home but, alas, we generally just shove the new items into the
front of the refrigerator/freezer, kitchen pantry, or downstairs closet, relegating the older stuff to the back.
Every Wednesday morning, the trash gets picked up in our neighborhood. That means every Tuesday
night my wife faithfully goes spelunking in the fridge, digs out anything that is rotten, moldy, or past its
“best-if-used-by” date, and often fills up another garbage bag for me to kick to the curb. My daughters
and I affectionately call her the “FDA Inspector” — a role that she has come to relish.
How Much Do Your