My late husband did not enjoy the usual tasks assigned to the male gender, i.e., shoveling snow and mowing lawns. I, on the other hand, looked on shopping as a crashing bore. I achieved a lot of satisfaction out of moving snow into mounds. Loving the scent of newly mown grass, I reveled in that task as well. So we made a pact early on and switched those roles and lived happily ever after.

It did, however, call for some attitude adjustment. He had a keen, analytical mind and could spot a bargain quicker than anyone I ever knew.

During our courting days, he lamented that he could not afford to wrap me in furs and shower me with diamonds. I told him my tastes were simple and I did not care for those luxury items. So he vowed to provide me with all the love and security he was able, and that he did.

After our honeymoon, on our first excursion to stock our larder, I discovered we were dissimilar in our buying habits. Finding myself three aisles ahead of him, I retraced my steps and found him in the baking-needs aisle, calculating the difference in price per ounce on a quart of vanilla from the tiny bottle I had picked up. I assured him that I’d never use a quart of vanilla in my whole life and we moved on.

I let him fly solo on shopping from then on.

Now when I must shop alone, I often think of the popular phrase “What would Jesus do?” only I change it to “What would Don buy?”

I learned from him that just because an item is priced at “three for a dollar,” I don’t have to buy three if I only want one. Many other tips he gave me make me a wise shopper.

Sometimes I can feel his eyes on me, with a smile on his face, saying, “Atta girl.”

 

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