Monday. I did the weekly grocery shopping.  I choose the recipes I plan on making this week.  I make a list of ingredients I need and I add the items written on the list on the refrigerator to the list

Tuesday. First thing when I get up (well, not first thing –  because first thing, I pee, clean the cat box, check my glucose, take my pills, shower, and get dressed …), my darling husband tells me that we’re low on milk.  Now, I seldom touch the milk carton – I only use milk when a recipe calls for it.  Bill, however, uses it every weekday morning in his cereal.  So I rely on Bill to know when we need milk. 

Now, you know me – I’m annoyed.  Why didn’t he think to tell me yesterday or write it on the refrigerator list?  Ugh.

But there are a few new things on the refrigerator list – things we need, but could wait a week – so I go to the store, again (feeling such the martyr every step of the way), with the very short list.

Do my shopping, get checked out, and get in the car and drive home.

As soon as I pull up to our house, I realize …

Guess what I forgot to get?  Guess what I forgot to get even though it was written on my list?  Guess what I forgot to get even though it was the main reason I was going to the store.

I forgot the motherfucking milk.  (You know this is my computer when my Word spellcheck knows that I spelled motherfucking right!)

So I go right back to the store and got the motherfucking milk.

I’m not happy with myself.  In fact, I’m kind of furious with myself. 

And yet, I can’t help laughing too.

I feel like the universe is telling me – maybe you shouldn’t be so judge-y when your husband (who does so much for you every fucking day) forgets to add milk to the shopping list.  Yuh think?

Words to live by:

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