349. Husbands (5)

When my husband said in a cheerful voice that he was going shopping and did we need anything I was taken aback and unsure on how to react.

'Erm ... shopping ... you mean supermarket shopping?'

'Yes. Just about to leave. Anything special?'

The voice still cheerful. He sounded almost happy to go there. Maybe he was finally reaching maturity. Hopefully it would not take so long for our son. 

The cheerful tone of voice was rubbing on me and I put aside all my doubts about his ability to complete basic everyday tasks like shopping for food.

'Olive oil.' I could not help adding: 'Real olive oil.'

'Olive oil.' My husband repeats after me.

'Bananas.' That one's easy I wanted to add - but I didn't. 

'Bananas.'

'Ewe's milk yogurt. Plain.' That one's definitely not easy.

'Ewe's milk yogurt. Plain.' He repeats after me, not missing a beat, he does not even make a silly comment about my choice.

'And Arrabiata sauce.'

'And Arrabiata sauce.' 

Wow. Impressive. It is as if I got myself a brand new husband from somewhere. Maybe it is all this painting the front windows under the early summer sun? Maybe it is the prospect of another weekend away practicing for the TGA? Whatever it is it is all good to me. Instead of driving to the shops I can put my feet up, brew some tea and pick up a book. 

I am snuggled up on the couch under the jealous eyes of Ralph the dog, sipping tea and already engrossed in the wonderful world of my novel when the door opens with a bang and my husband walks in with a brand new shopper bag with huge bright red letters on its bulging side that say: Vivre d'amour et de légumes frais.

I hesitate between pointing out that he has bought yet an other shopper and making a stupid comment about the message. I opt for the former.

'No, I know. It's just this one will stay in my car. It'll be my shopping bag.'

'Good decision.' Is all I can say. Definitely brand new husband. I get up to inspect the contents of the bag. 

I take out what looks like a bottle of olive oil ...  the label is not the same. I hold it up and there are bits floating in it! I read the label: vinaigrette avec ail et feuille de basilic. Processed oil, everything I hate in one tiny bottle.

I put it on the table and check out more of the contents and am pleased to see that the bananas look like bananas, the jar of tomato sauce looks red enough. Something at the bottom even looks like a yogurt pot. I get it out and there is a sheep on the packet. It looks promising but when I reads the label it is rice pudding! I hate rice pudding!

'Maybe you will like it with ewe's milk.' Says my husband, looking a little sheepish.

Yeah. Well definitely not a new husband. Still can't do shopping.