The Bargain Nazi

Whenever I send Dan to the store, I know I'm rolling the dice.  First of all it takes a HUGE amount of effort to get him out the door, and the odds of him coming home with what I asked him to get are iffy, at best.


However, I seriously hate grocery shopping.  It just feels like soooo muchhhh worrrrrkkkk, ya know?  You have to buyyyy the stuff, then put it allllll on the belt thingy for the cashier to ring up, then haul it out to your car, put it all IN your car, driiiive it home, drag it all up the motherfuckin' stairs (I HATE THOSE STAIRS), and put it alllll awayyyyy.  


And for what, I ask you?  So that I can cook, clean, and take out the trash.


Oh, and eat.


But that's beside the point.


Anyway, once in a while the urge to not do the shopping outweighs the horror of sending Dan to the store.  Today was one of those days.


First of all, Dan needs a list.  It doesn't matter if he's going to the store to buy one thing, he needs a list.  He demands a list. I'll be all, "Could you run out and pick up a loaf of bread so I can make you sandwiches for lunch tomorrow?"  and he'll be all, "Make me a list!"  


Me:  "It's bread, dude.  One loaf.  Do you really need a list?"


Dan:  "What kind of bread?"


Me:  "It's for YOU.  Get whatever kind of bread you friggin' want!"


Dan:  "What kind do I like?"


Yeah.  That actually happens.  A lot.


The other problem is that even though Dan wasn't born until 1973, his brain thinks it's 1956, and he is continually shocked by how much groceries cost.  I will do a good week's worth of shopping, plus dog food, laundry soap, dishwasher detergent, toilet paper, kotex, etc. (all the necessities of life) and he will say, "How much did you spend?"  


I usually shave off about $40 because honestly, at this point?  He's worth more alive than dead and I don't want him to drop dead from a heart attack.


"$130-ish," I'll tell him.  (Riiiiiight.)


His reaction is immediate:  His eyes will bug out, his mouth will drop open, his voice with climb up several octaves and he'll say, "ONE THIRTY?  FOR THIS?  WHAT THE HELL DID YOU BUY?"


(Diamonds, baby.  Lots and lots of diamonds.  Just like always.)


So when I send him to the store, he suddenly becomes The Bargain Nazi.  If I don't write down exactly what it is I want him to buy, he heads immediately for the cheapest version he can find and tosses it into the cart.  Sometimes, that's okay... I don't freak out if he comes home with cheap, generic aluminum foil or store brand non-dairy coffee creamer.  I can live with that.  It's when he by-passes the stuff I explicitly want him to buy and replaces it with something out of the sales bin, that I have a problem.   So my list tonight looked like this:


1.  Ground coffee, Starbucks Breakfast Blend.  Do not get decaf.  Do not buy cheaper brand and tell me they were out of Starbucks, because I'll know you're lying, and I'll make you go to Dunkin Donuts every morning before work to buy me coffee.  I'm not kidding. 


2.  Tide with Febreeze.  Do not get cheaper brand and tell me they were out, because if you do, I'll know you're lying and your clothes will not be clean or smell good, and then I'll be pissed and just go out and buy it myself, which will cost you twice as much.  Think about that.  


3.  Dishwasher detergent.  Cascade, in the little individual pouch thingies.  Do not get a carton of powder, do not get a bottle of gel.  Get the Cascade pouches.  Nothing but the Cascade pouches.  If you can't find Cascade pouches, call me and read me off the names of allllll of the little pouch brands that are available and I will give you an alternate choice.  Do not, I repeat, do not try this without calling me.  


4.  Toilet paper.  Charmin Ultra.  It's in the blue package.  NOT the red package, but the BLUE package.   Blue.  Charmin.  Ultra.  Do not get cute and buy cheap toilet paper because I will send your ass back to return it and bring home the Charmin.  I'm 48 years old and by God, I deserve decent toilet paper.


5.  Loaf of Italian or French bread to have with lasagna for dinner tonight.


*pause*


Okay, here's where I went wrong:  I left the bread choice up to him. I totally dropped the ball and didn't even realize that bread was something he could screw up.


I was wrong.


He came proudly home with allllllll of the stuff I asked him to get (and tried to convince me that my coffee was too expensive and I should just "get a can of Sanka"... ummmm... NO.  Do they even still sell Sanka?  What am I, a hundred?  On the same hand, what is HE?  HE'S 10 YEARS YOUNGER THAN I AM AND DOESN'T EVEN DRINK COFFEE.  SANKA???) and then he pulled out the bread.


It was Italian bread... yes, he got that right.


It also had three different price stickers on it, as it had been priced down for each day it had been sitting on the bakery Day Old rack.


The last sticker said "Priced for immediate sale."


Loosely translated:  "It's dry, it's stale, and it's going to start turning into penicillin in roughly 10 minutes."


Me:  *looking at bread as it turned to dust before my very eyes*  "You just couldn't resist, could you."


Dan:  *willing to eat anything if he can get it for 75% off*  "What do you mean?  It's perfectly good bread."


Bless his heart.