grocery shopping

the cupboards in the house are bare. usually i'm the one in the household who does the grocery shopping and cooking. i try to reassure myself that J and i don't buy into gender-based roles, but the fact is that it really doesn't matter either way because i genuinely enjoy cooking. almost as much as i genuinely enjoy eating.

usually.

lately the thought of walking into a giant crowded building full of food and the great unwashed masses is enough to inspire a panic attack, what with my near-constant low-grade nausea and perpetual need for a bathroom.

so last night i told J that i'm officially handing over the grocery-shopping duties until i feel better. of course, he's fine with this - he doesn't mind doing the grocery shopping, either, but i usually put the kibosh on that because when he goes he buys the really good food like those little debbie strawberry cakes and the best kind of jalapeno kettle chips and the next thing you know i'm standing in the kitchen gorging myself on things that i would never buy myself because if i did i would stand in the kitchen and gorge myself.

so today i sent him an email with my wish list of grocery items that i'd like for him to get me, and the rest of the grocery shopping is totally up to him and he can buy whatever he thinks he is necessary for he and autumn to subsist until i'm feeling better.

the wish list wasn't things i'd normally buy for myself, but honestly i just named off random things that sound good to me right-now-this-very-minute that i might be able to eat in the foreseeable future and that don't require cooking. it read like a cross between the shopping lists of a 5-year-old and a french sous chef:

fresh cherries

frozen orange juice

cornichons

kool-aid

grapefruit

campbell's chicken and stars

granola

organic unfiltered apple juice

oranges/nectarines/tangelos

a jar of manzanilla olives

spaghetti-o's

canned artichoke hearts

raspberry sorbet or sherbet

milk

canned tuna, the good albacore kind not the cheap chunk light kind

easy mac

i'm waiting for him to get home now and i'm sure that as soon as the bags hit the counter i will descend upon them like a ravenous hyena and then suddenly it will all sound completely disgusting and i'll attempt to appropriate whatever thing J bought for himself for dinner and he'll have to stand there, slapping my hand away and looking panicked like, "oh my god are you seriously going to be like this for the next seven months??"