Who Pays for the Groceries

Betty pulled a small notebook from her purse.

"What do you want for dinner?"

This was how the list usually started.

Betty's lists were different from Dudley's. Betty wrote down what they needed. Dudley preferred to know everything they already had.

He considered this more reliable.

Betty considered it unnecessary.

Dudley also had a habit of proofreading Betty's lists for logistical intent. Was the route efficient? Were they buying something they already owned? Had she accounted for what was in the freezer? Were there duplicates?

This process was useful right up until Dudley forgot what they were actually trying to accomplish.

In this case, dinner.

Preferably an enjoyable one.

"What do we have?"

Betty sighed.

This was not the question she had asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, we should probably figure out what we have."

"I don't want to figure out what we have. I want to figure out what we want."

"How can we know what we want if we don't know what we have?"

Betty stared at him.

Dudley could tell he was already making dinner more difficult than necessary.

He got up anyway.

They went to the kitchen. Dudley opened the refrigerator. Betty stood beside him, notebook in hand.

"We have chicken."

"No."

"You didn't even think about it."

"I thought about it. For half a second. That was enough."

"Pork chops?"

"No."

"Hamburger?"

"No."

"There's taco meat."

"We just had tacos."

"When?"

"Recently."

"I don't remember having tacos recently."

"I do."

"How recently?"

Betty looked at him.

"Recent enough that I don't want tacos."

Dudley closed the freezer.

Dudley believed dinner was already somewhere in the house. Betty believed dinner was something you recognized when you saw it.

"What sounds good?"

"That depends on what we have."

"No, it doesn't."

"Of course it does."

"What if I don't want what we have?"

Dudley considered this a design flaw in the space-time continuum. Betty considered it dinner.

He opened the pantry.

"Pasta."

"No."

"Soup?"

"No."

"Frozen pizza?"

Betty didn't answer.

"Well, that means no."

Betty looked back into the refrigerator.

"We need mustard."

"We have mustard."

"No. We need new mustard."

Dudley counted.

"We have five."

"They're different."

"There are two yellow mustards."

"They're different yellow mustards."

"They are both yellow."

"One is for company."

That stopped him.

Apparently mustard now had a guest hierarchy.

Betty wrote new mustard in the notebook.

Then, Something good for dinner, Butter. Bread. Bacon. Flowers. Chips.

Dudley read over her shoulder.

"That's not a list."

"It works for me."

Dudley pointed at the page.

"Something good for dinner is not an item."

"It will be when we see it."

"That's not how inventory works."

"We're not doing inventory."

"We're buying groceries."

They went to Fareway first.

Betty headed straight for the meat counter. Bacon required no discussion.

Then she stopped at the salmon.

"We have chicken."

"I know."

"We have pork chops."

"I know."

The salmon went into the cart.

Apparently it sounded good.

Dudley looked at it.

"So that was the answer?"

"What?"

"Dinner."

"Maybe."

"You don't know?"

"I'll know later."

This was not how requirements gathering was supposed to work.

They moved on.

Aldi's was for the basics. Butter, cheese, creamer.

Then Betty picked up chips.

"We have chips."

"Not these."

Dudley looked at the bag.

"They're chips."

"They're different."

"How?"

Betty put them in the cart.

"You'll survive."

Trader Joe's was Betty's last lap of the race.

Flowers went in gently.

Then ice cream.

Then a couple of things that had never appeared on any list but apparently belonged there anyway.

Dudley watched another item go into the cart.

"Was that on the list?"

"No."

"Then how did you know we needed it?"

"I saw it."

Dudley nodded.

Of course.

At checkout, Betty paid, as usual.

The card approved, as usual.

Nothing dramatic happened.

They drove home and unloaded the groceries.

Jingo appeared on the counter almost immediately.

She moved from bag to bag with quiet seriousness, inspecting each one before proceeding to the next.

"She's checking your work."

"She knows I got everything."

"You forgot something."

"What?"

Betty smiled.

Apparently it wasn't important.

Jingo stuck her head farther into one of the bags.

"She's more thorough than you are."

"She doesn't have a job."

"Neither do we."

Betty looked at him.

"Good point."

Dinner was salmon.

Somehow there were roasted vegetables and warm bread too.

Dudley had not seen any of that coming together.

Betty had.

It was very good.

It was always very good.

Dudley took another bite and looked across the table.

"So the salmon was the plan."

"Yes."

"You said maybe."

"I changed my mind."

"Before or after you bought it?"

Betty smiled.

"Does it matter?"

Dudley looked at the plate.

It did not.

Betty had been right again.

Mission accomplished.

After dinner, Betty stayed downstairs.

Dudley went up to the office and opened the checking account.

Three grocery charges.

The balance was fine.

Savings were fine.

Retirement was untouched.

For most of their lives, money had moved in one direction.

In.

Paychecks arrived.

Bills got paid.

Savings grew.

That was the pattern.

Retirement meant that eventually the pattern would change.

Money would start moving the other way.

Dudley stared at the balance longer than necessary.

Nothing blinked.

Nothing warned him.

Nothing required immediate attention.

He didn't transfer anything.

He could do that later, when they actually needed it.

For now, the groceries were paid for.

Dinner had been good.

The refrigerator was full.

There were still six mustards.

Dudley closed the laptop and went downstairs.

Betty looked up.

"Everything okay?"

"Yep."

"There's leftover salmon if you want some tomorrow."

"I know."

"Sounds good."

Dudley sat down.

The evening went on.