Just Let It Go

As someone who wasn't "born" disabled (altho technically, I probably was, if my disorder is found to be a genetic defect), I had lived a relatively normal life up until I was about 29 years old. Up till then, I was an active, productive female in society, doing all the things I was supposed to be doing to contribute to my family.

One of those activities was grocery shopping. That was my job in our household, and one I thought I did well. I mean, how hard is it? Eggs, milk, bread, tampons, chocolate... anyone can do it, right?

Wrong. Turns out, it's a skill that one hones over time.

When I started getting too sick to continue the grocery shopping, the hubby took over. Now, this is the same man that lived on his own from college to age 26. Obviously, he had to grocery shop sometime for himself. But apparently he was just buying meat, Kahlua, and popcorn.

I remember sending him off once with the list. On that list was Kiwi. Small, green, tart fruit, right? He came home with a coconut.


Coconut.


Kiwi.


I can see why he got them mixed up. Oy.


One other time, I asked him to buy me the lowest fat cooking oil he could find. This meant he had to read labels. Big mistake.

He came home with apparently the lowest fat one in the store. It's fat content was ZERO.

That's because he had bought Karo Syrup.

We didn't make popcorn that night.

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