My Guess: Sixties. Widower. Adorable. Behind on Laundry.
January 23, 2011 § 5 Comments
If you have ever put your shopping list down in the grocery store and walked off without it, there’s a very good chance I’m the person who picked it up later.
I can’t help it.
It’s the grocery-store equivalent of driving at dusk and being able to peek into living rooms before curtains have been drawn. Maybe it’s a little bit creepy, but glimpses into the regular, personal, everyday moments of strangers’ lives are precious to me (plus I really love seeing how other people decorate their houses). It’s the storyteller in me; it’s food for my imagination.
When I found this list in Giant today — left on the top of a pile of Duraflame logs — I burst out laughing.
We have to buy butter almost every week. Scott eats more butter than any human alive — his English muffins in the morning look like cereal bowls, built to hold two fraternal twin seas of butter. Whoever lost this list is a kindred spirit to my husband.
Any idea what the third item on the list is? Gas bottles?