Because I fail to shop with a grocery list and I also fail to perform an
exhaustive inventory before heading off to P&C every other week to collect
things for eating, I often make the mistake I made today: picking up stuff we
already have. Such as margarine. We hardly even eat margarine. So
why I bought two squares of it this afternoon is unexplainable. Even
worse, I returned home (thinking I’d done well to accumulate substantial
meal-makings and cakehole pleasers while also staying within the food budget) to
find three unopened squares and a more-than-half-filled tub of margarine in the
fridge, enough to bring on in me a margaraine headache.
Dennis’s father stockpiled canned Mandarin orange slices. No one ever knew why. Maybe a shelf full of those squat cans made him feel secure: a can opener, a desert island, and little orange segments?
I love mandarin oranges, and there probably was a stretch where I bought overloaded our cupboards with them in the plastic Delmonte four-packs (then keep asking Ph. why he never eats them). That’s the way it goes with me; I’ll reverse my ways to determinedly that we’ll run out of margarine in three months for a lack of buying any in the weeks ahead.
Margarine would build up in my house, too. Now, if it were BUTTER, on the other hand, no indeed. For me, it is simply reflex to buy a couple pounds of butter on each trip to the grocery.
Forgive me. I lived a piece in Wisconsin, whereby I was forever brainwashed to believe that margarine is evil.
We used to buy butter. I don’t know why we stopped. I remember it tasting better.
Never lived in Wisconsin, but have lots of family connections there, and so was raised on brats and curd.