There are many things MrBunny is good at- picking up, finding a place for crap (which is good because I so am not), cleaning out cars, pitching out things that have been sitting around for years (except that copy of Shogun he’s been carting around for god only knows how long when there is no chance in hell he is ever going to read it), stuff like that.

Then there are things he is not good at- folding clothes, putting away dishes back to where they came from, and going to the grocery store.

Oh the grocery store.  Unlike the folding of the clothes and the putting the dishes back where they came from, I believe this is one of those “if I do it badly she won’t ask me to do it again” type of things.  And I’m perfectly okay with it.  Because I love going to the grocery store.  Love it.  And I absolutely hate it when he goes with me.  I like taking my time going up and down each aisle.  I enjoy checking out each type of apple available.  I hate when he comes walking down the aisle with his arms full of crap that we don’t need.  The grocery store is my happy place.  (ask my parent’s about the night that we went to a movie and then they took me to see the new Schnucks- I am a sucker for a new pretty grocery store)

Enter my problem.

I can’t drive.  I can’t walk.  I hate those scooters (I’m a hazard enough on my own two feet, it never ends well if I motorize the process).

MrBunny has to go to the store by himself.

And he has to come back with what I ask for.

I’ve been working on the most detailed grocery list in the history of humankind for seemingly hours now.

Everything is broken down into aisles and whether or not it is store brand or name brand (because I think we all know that there are certain things you just don’t go store brand for… toilet paper).

It really is a sight to behold.  I have taken every single neurosis I have and channeled it into this grocery list.

It belongs in a museum.

It belongs in the Smithsonian.  It is that epic.

95% of it won’t be read.

At least I’m honest with myself.

Oh well, I suppose two weeks of store brand toilet paper won’t kill me.

I hope.