Warning: Here be whining

As many of you know, we are currently in the midst of week 5 of the rest of our lives* of having my in-laws (plus one sister-in-law) living with us. This has caused any number of strains and stresses on my sanity, but the one that seems to be the biggest thus far is grocery shopping.

See, normally in the Sleepy household, I will truck myself off the grocery store once every, oh, two and a half to three weeks. There are only two of us. And grocery shopping is not one of my preferred activities. Consequently I can do a relatively big trip that will last us for a good long while and, when we are once again down to having only condiments in the refrigerator, repeat the process. And like all professional daredevils, I work without a list. Mostly I know what we need and can keep it organized in my head. And by and large, I forget just as much when I shop with a list as I do when I wing it. So, other than the random weeks where I go on a "I'm going to plan our meals out for the week and then shop for just those things" binge (which, in our home, is inevitably a bad idea...I never feel like making or eating what I planned), this works for us.

This does not work when you have houseguests.

So I have been averaging a $250 trip every week. And they go 2 or 3 other times during the week, since it seems my mother-in-law loves to grocery shop. I'm not sure what, other than milk and orange juice, they're purchasing, but I also don't really care. It makes them happy and for the last five weeks I have only had to resort to powdered creamer twice because we were out of milk.

Anyway, last night Tim and I went to supper with a friend of the family. Lots of fun was had, good food was consumed and Tim procrastinated too much on his paper to join me at the store on the way home. So I dropped him off and headed out to the store, as usual sans list, since we were pretty much down to condiments (minus, of course, the stuff I buy for MIL and SIL to eat during the day that, for whatever reason, they don't actually touch, but it's not stuff we're going to eat, it's stuff they said they'd eat, so it's probably going to rot).

My trip was pretty quick and the car laden with all kinds of yummy treats***. Tim brought in the bags while I started unloading and MIL, from the kitchen table, offered to help put things away. Now, we've discussed my OCD so I don't need to tell you (most likely) that my response was, "Thanks, I think I've got it." Which inevitably hurts her feelings. Once it's all away, it's now 9:30, I've done no homework or really anything at all, but you know what, it's bed time. So I say goodnight and start up the stairs and what follows is the same thing that has been said to me - and answered the same way (with minor variations) at least twice each week that they've been staying with us: "You know, I'd be happy to go to the grocery store for you" delivered in a tone that would make puppies feel guilty for being cute.

I get that they're trying to be helpful. I do. Really. And I appreciate the thought. BUT I honestly believe that it would be more of a hassle for me to write the kind of list that I would need to write for her to be able to do my grocery shopping than it could ever be worth. In fact, I venture to say that I would spend more time writing the list than an average trip takes me, plus I can almost guarantee you that she would not follow the list exactly - because I have certain brands of certain things that I buy. And they're not always the cheapest. But they taste better to me. And she is a woman who will go to six different grocery stores to save a nickel on a $0.50 loaf of bread. So if I put down 8 oz Lucerne sharp cheddar, you can bet your sweet bippie that if she sees a Giant ad for Giant brand cheddar that would save a penny, I'm going to end up with Giant brand cheese. And it's probably fine. But it's not what I like. (Let alone that the Giants near me are skeezy, which is why I shop at Safeway - I have a thing about buying food - food that will eventually go in my mouth - from a dirty store. Can't. Do. It.)

And so the battle rages on becuase I cannot tell her why I don't want her to do this (or tack on "For the love of all that's Holy and good, woman, stop asking me"). Instead, I have to get by with a breezy, "Oh, thanks! But I tend not to have a list when I shop." Or some other such half truth. And she will continue to ask - because this is how all of them are - until I finally cave in. And then I will have to try to deal with the fact that I have off-brand mayonnaise that no one will ever eat because it tastes like congealing super glue in my frige because it was $0.02 cheaper.

*Theoretically at some point they will actually move out. It's just the combination of what they "must" have in a home is so restrictive that there are probably only 2 houses in the greater DC area that meet their requirements and, more than likely, those 2 homes are already under contract - or will be if they actually manage to find and look at them - which means that, for all intents and purposes, they're going to be here forever. I might as well look into getting a sign like Mr. Burns gave Homer** and find a handy place to hang it - maybe over the fireplace?

**The sign said: Dont' forget: you're here forever.

***Yummy for most people. Tim's sister is the singularly pickiest eater I have ever encountered in my life. She claims to be a vegetarian but eats chicken like it's going out of style and there's still some question regarding the 5 left over hamburgers that none of the sworn carnivores will fess up to eating but she also won't eat salads. So I think really she's just picky - and she's an impolite picky at that, meeting anything that isn't the most boring piece of chicken you've seen in your life with the oh-so-uplifting comment of "Eeew." I have utterly given up trying to please her and feel like I've eaten so much chicken in the last five weeks that I will not be surprised if I start laying eggs.