The Shopping Cart

It doesn’t take long, really, for man to recognize the stark difference in the way we think from that of our female counterparts. A clear example shone its revealing glory at Target the other day. On these trips, the ones I would rather forego to sweep the garage or plunge a toilet, I am given a mission. It’s a small mission I’m trusted with, one that doesn’t require a lot of responsibility, but a mission nonetheless. During the few months I’ve been married, the mission usually means gathering two or three peripheral items from the grocery department. These are the ones that, if forgotten, won’t force meal rescheduling. Gatorade, coffee creamer and chips are peripheral items.

It was in my mission-minded state that I returned, beaming, with my items collected and deposited into the cart. Looking at the cart, in horror, my wife began hastily rearranging the fruit in the shopping cart then the bread and the vegetables. Why wouldn’t you put the fruit together and the boxed and heavy things toward the back? She wasn’t making a lot of sense to me at that moment, because, didn’t you see, honey, I just completed my mission? I got each of the three items you requested. And I didn’t break a thing. Seeeeaahh?

The next week I thought I would live out some of my own personal creativity. We both had the oil changed in our cars late in the afternoon. It was a one-man operation, so changing both of our cars out took no less than 6 hours. After filling my wife’s car with gas, I brought it around the side of the station for a wash. It was automated and still open despite the closed service station. Pulling out of the wash and driving home, I called Mary in a panic. Honey, I said with anxiety in my voice. Honey, I’m stuck in the car wash. They closed the station while I was in the middle of the wash, and the doors are locked! What? What?! Her puzzled and concerned response was moving. I said again I was stuck and needed her to call the police and get someone over. Are you serious? She always asks that. Well, no. Ha ha, honey, I’ll be home in five minutes. I laughed hysterically the whole way home.

Rearranging the shopping cart. Could anything be more clear and straightforward? Why would anyone in their right mind put a box of graham crackers on top of a bag of pears as I did that day? Men just don’t get it sometimes. We two sexes are different. Gifted in different ways and very different.

That is the artistry and wonder of God’s creative sixth day.