Yesterday due to the migraine my cooking skills were limited. I defrosted a roast, found random veggies to chop, and shoved it all in the oven. I text Nick and let him know if he wanted the same mashed potatoes he bought last week they would compliment this meal well. He agreed to the mission and now we have a new story.
5:10 p.m. I get a text, “I’m leaving the office for the store in 2 minutes.” The store is across the street from Nick’s office, and both are 1.5 miles from our condo down a 45 mph street with very few stop lights and traffic. It is my assumption I will see him by 5:30.
6:03 p.m. Nick unlocks the door knowing full well that I’m not happy.
It begins with me reminding him that I can leave downtown Portland, drive 11 miles in gridlock traffic, go to the store, shop for an entire meal, and still make it home in under 45 minutes. I must remind myself that men are not women, and not everyone is a complete mission accomplishment psycho like me. Now for the subsequent conversation.
Him: “I’m sorry. I know you’re mad. I will tell you though that I talked to three people about this and they couldn’t find them either.”
Me: “How can people who work in the store not find what you’re looking for? Where did you buy them in the first place? Where did you go to buy them this time?”
Him: “Well I first got them at Safeway, but I went to Fred Meyer because it’s across the street. The problem is I told the workers the potatoes were made by Hormel.” (They are made by Country Crock.)
Me: “Did it occur to you to perhaps find an alternative to these mashed potatoes?”
Him: “Yes, it did, but by the time I thought about that I had been looking for a really long time.”
Me: “Did it occur to you that the deli actually makes their own mashed potatoes each day? Or that they have fresh ones we could pop in the microwave for 10 minutes and have baked potatoes? Or that they have powdered ones? Or to just call me and see what might be an acceptable replacement?”
Him: “No, I didn’t think of those things, but they are all very good points for next time.”
Me: “So if you couldn’t find them how did you manage to buy them? Did you end up going to Safeway after all?”
Him: “No. Finally after searching for a long time and not finding them I grabbed clam chowder and started to walk out of the store and I walked down the aisle that had the potatoes so I picked them up and bought them.”
Me: “Clam chowder is your answer to not finding Country Crock mashed potatoes, when there are powdered, fresh, and deli potatoes in the same store?”
Him: “Yes. I’m not as good at grocery stores as you are.”
Me: “Okay, I was starving to death and only waited because I love you and you said you were on the way. The only possible way to fix this is with dessert.”
The deal is struck, we kiss, make up, eat dinner, life is good.
Him: “What dessert would you like?”
Me: “Oreos and milk.”
He leaves for the store and by the grace of god when confronted with a legitimate question I got a phone call. “What kind of Oreos do you like?” I reply, “The plain ones.” He clarifies, “Not double stuffed?” Me, “Nope, just plain old originals.”
And that is how I got Oreos for dessert last night.
Now I am aware that I am firmly rooted in with the naggiest of nagging wives in most people’s opinions at this moment, but I would like to point out Nick married me, not all of you, so please be thankful.
Stupid wives. Grrr...