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Ways to get out of going Shopping

I hate grocery shopping. I loathe grocery shopping. I refuse to go grocery shopping. Sometimes I'm told I have to go grocery shopping with my wife (see the thumbprint, just under the fringe line, just there, yep, that's it). The last time (and I do mean the last time) I went grocery shopping, in order to get out of future going grocery shopping expeditions, I decided that 20 or so packets of Preparation H, some handy-dandy latex gloves and a few boxes of worming-ointment at the bottom of the shopping trolley were just the thing that my wife needed to unpack onto the counter (while I disappeared to get the bread).

In earlier attempts to persuade my thumb-printing wife that I really didn't like grocery shopping and that I shouldn't be going grocery shopping, and did I ever, ever make her go to the hardware store with me, no, but does she listen, no, and where was I again, oh yeah, to try and get out of grocery shopping, when we were grocery shopping I would wait until there was a crowd of people in the same aisle as us and then announce loudly to all and sundry, but supposedly directed to me wife, that the depends are in aisle 6, I think.

If you remember (and it was only two paragraphs ago, so you should remember, but it's probably your age that causing you not to remember ... where was I, oh yeah), I hate grocery shopping. Another failed attempt to get out of grocery shopping is to wait patiently in line at the checkout waiting for the cashier to go through to full line of people before you, watching as the line continues to build behind you, then after you have gotten all the groceries on to the counter and the cashier has just started to ring them up (you have to allow time for the embarrassment to sink in) you ask your wife, discreetly, but not so discreetly as the others in the line and the cashier can't her you, whether she can smell that smell and was that her that was making that god awful smell and was she wearing clean underpants, because if that smell was her, her underpants wouldn't be clean anymore.

To further get out of the tedious task of going grocery shopping, I used to try the following. Wait until the cashier has rung up all the goods and then when your wife is getting ready to swipe her credit card through the reader ask, just loudly enough for the cashier to hear, are you sure you've got the funds this time, you know like the last couple of times, when you had to leave most of the items behind because the bank wouldn't honor your credit card? This is generally enough to get you a punch in the arm, but not generally enough to get you out of the horrors that are grocery shopping. Sigh!

As an additional item to the above suggestion to get out of grocery shopping (and isn't grocery an interesting word, someone who sells groceries is a grocer!, but back to the subject) is to hang onto the wife's hand when she goes to swipe the credit card through the reader and then ask the cashier whether she minds who pays for the groceries, then when the cashier remarks that she doesn't care who pays for the groceries, ask the cashier that if she doesn't mind who pays for the groceries, would she mind paying for the groceries and then watch her confusion as you try to argue her into paying for the groceries because as she said, she doesn't mind who pays for the groceries (and have you ever seen such a long run-on sentence before, no, I didn't think so).

So while we're at the cashiers, after having all the Preparation H, the latex gloves and the worming-ointment sent back to be restocked onto the shelves and the wife decides that she wants to pay with cash but she's short 9 dollars or so and she asks if you have 9 dollars you can 'lend' her, you look through your wallet and pull out 9 dollar notes and then just as you're about to hand them to her, you pull them back and ask her how I'm now supposed to go the strip club without my supply of one dollar notes.

By the way, I am not invited to go grocery shopping any more.
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