I suppose it had to happen eventually. After 18 years of marriage, my husband and I have become one of those old, bickering couples who will argue about anything. I may have to start pummeling him with something when he starts getting senile and I get nothing done but reminding, correcting, and refreshing his memory.
I dragged him off to Walmart with me on Saturday. He sees it as a means of punishment, and I honestly think he thinks if he acts like it's his first day out in civilization, I'll stop making him go with me on the weekend. But that's not going to happen. I've pretty much grown immune to his antics.
He'll whip out his cell phone and make a documentary of our shopping adventures - complete with commentary about the other shoppers. He'll take pics of my butt as he follows behind me. Sometimes, I'll send him off to get something I've forgotten and I'll end up losing him. I'll spend as much time looking for him as I do shopping. Thank goodness, we got rid of the Nextel phones with the direct connect capabilities. He found it quite funny to say things like "nice butt" or "what a stud" so someone standing near me thought I was saying it.
He forgot his phone on Saturday, though. I guess since he didn't have his phone to distract his attention, he was going to ponder the shopping carts.
As soon as we walked in, he looked at the shopping carts and said, "Hmm, new carts."
"I don't think so. The last time I was here, they were in various stages of refurbishing. Some had those new brackets on them," I told him.
"Hmm, maybe they just reinforced them and spray painted them," he said.
We did our shopping, and he mentioned the cart a few more times. "I think these are new," he told me.
I don't know why it was important to me to repeat what I said. "I think they are just redoing them. I don't think they are new."
Obviously, he was not going to accept my theory that they were rebuilding the carts, fixing what was wrong with them, and slapping on a coat of gray, speckled paint. We got out to the parking lot, and I was handing him bags as he put them in the back of his truck.
"Maybe they just slapped on a new coat of paint on them," he said. "I don't know. They might be new."
"I told you that the brackets were on some carts the last time I was here. They are rebuilding them. Why don't you listen to what I tell you?"
"You might be right. Hey, the wheels are new," he said as he inspected the cart.
I stood there shaking my head, and I took over unloading the remaining grocery bags.
"Hey, your boyfriend is staring at you," he said.
"Uh, my boyfriend?" I asked. In my husband's estimation, anyone I know who I am not married to and male is my "boyfriend."
"Jody, whatever his name is. He's over there with his son."
I glanced across the parking lot, and sure enough I was being stared at and the guy did have his son with him. I returned his wave, because I'm always waving at my "boyfriends."
"See? Told you that your boyfriend was checking you out."
"Uh, you dork. That's my step-brother Jeff. Good god. My boyfriend? Yes, my step-brother is my boyfriend," I said, a little bit on the sarcastic side.
We got in the truck, and as we passed the cart return, he said, "I wonder if they are getting all new carts or replacing the broken ones."
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