The first thing I did when I got home at lunch today was to call my lovely, but most likely asleep mother and remind her it was grocery day. My favorite day of the week. I was prudent in doing this as my mother asked what day it was and what was the time. I laughed goodheartedly. That’s classic Martha, though. Nothing out of the ordinary. It is not mental illness related.
Mom and I went over what we were getting. We always get the same things and it seems like we are solidly set in our ways.
“Do you want cookies again?” mom asked me.
“Yes ma’am,” I replied. “Just get me whatever strikes your fancy. And be sure to get me the Carving Board luncheon meat for my sandwiches as well.”
“I’ll get you some oatmeal cookies as you like those,” mom told me. “You can eat them with your milk.”
You could hear my mother quickly jotting down on her envelope the changes we made,
“Ill see you around three,” my mother told me and we got off our phones.
Now, it is going to seem like 3pm will never get here. I am that anxious and excited as my coffers are bare.