Two Words

Friends, I have two words for you….chicken strips. Those two words were among other items on a list given to my spouse for his trip to the promised land aka Costco. Those chicken strips are an excellent source of protein and I love to have them, on occasion, for lunch.

I had my meal planned. Recorded it in my handy food diary and the air fryer was ready for my delectable food choice. What I wasn’t prepared for was the horror that was presented to me. My spouse bought raw, chicken tenderloins. These were not the delightful, cooked chicken strips that I pop in my air fryer. Nope, four pounds of an item that was not on the list.

“What is this?” I ask. It was almost like a growl. I was trying to keep my shit together. Trying to remember that in the grand scheme of things, how important is this issue? Nope. I simply can’t let this go. There is no “strip” on the package. The only thing correct is the word “chicken”.

“Those are the chicken strips.” He seems proud. Like he actually did something correct. Sounds like somebody needs a smack down.

“No, these are not chicken strips. These are not the ones that I got the last time we were at Costco.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what you wanted.” Okay, this is where I remember that jail would not be a place I need to go. I don’t do well in confined spaces and I really enjoy the luxury of this thing called freedom.

“If you weren’t sure, why didn’t you call and ask me?” At this point, I have this loud buzzing in my ears. I can no longer hear his lame excuses and all I see are his lips flapping.

“Would you like me to go back and get those chicken strips?” Okay, why in the truck (please insert the word that begins with an F and rhymes with truck) is he being nice? Oh, it simply makes me even more annoyed, so I slap on my martyr hat and simply say, “No, I will just have something else for lunch.” The nerve of him.

So, I leave the room to go make the bed. I need some space to absorb the impact of his actions. He follows me and asks me if I need help. For the love of God, stop being so nice. I can’t even deal at this point, so I say to him, “I can’t even look at you, right now. Please leave before I say something unkind.” I am pretty proud of myself for not going all psychotic on him. A little while later, I approach him. I tell him that I forgive him for getting the wrong item and that in the future, if he is unsure, all he has to do is call and ask me. At this point, I figure we can move on until he opens his mouth and says, “Maybe you should be clearer next time.” Oh. No. He. Didn’t.

Oh, so maybe next time I will write a dissertation on the list. Something along the lines of “chicken strips that are made by Tyson that are found in the frozen food section near the lady who is giving free samples of the chicken strips that I want you to buy”. I. Can’t. Even. I don’t remember the exchange after that. I might have blacked out from the shock of his request.

I shouldn’t be surprised. One time I clearly put biscuits on the list and I wound up with Bisquik. Same genre but incorrect item. Yes, I know, I am a lucky girl whose husband will go to Costco while fighting off those aggressive food ladies offering free samples. But, right now, I am simply mourning the lack of chicken strips. Hopefully, our marriage is strong enough to survive this earth-shattering situation. Please pray for us.

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