Errands
I used to really hate errands as a kid. Even before I really knew what the word meant, I knew I hated it because “errands” meant going into the plant store which I disliked (hot. humid), the sewing store (tried and failed to entertain myself with the wall of thread spools and notions), sitting in the car for 50 hours while my mom grabbed a few/all of the store’s groceries, or generally having to wait what felt like a very long time while someone else accomplished something I was completely uninterested in.
Guess what, I still hate errands. They’re dumb and annoying and I get zero satisfaction out of doing them. Sometimes I get up early just to go run an errand. I do this not because I’m so busy and am trying to be more productive or efficient with my time. No, I do it so that I might trick myself into thinking it never really happened, because if I do it later on, even if it’s done and out of the way, I’m still annoyed, perhaps a bit resentful. So if I do it in a still-sleepy state, I can just tell myself it was all just a dream— a really lame dream, and that I still have a day full of potential for things I actually care about.
Sean is different. He loves errands. He loves feeling like he’s getting things done even if none of it actually matters (a possible opinion one could have). It’s actually very funny and quite useful and I’m very appreciative, because someone’s got to get the milk. He’s glad to make the Walmart stop, wash the car, pick up food. He’s a gem.
And guess what else he loves? Home Goods. I go into stores like this and I can get overwhelmed. But errands are much more fun when Sean is there. At Home Goods, he’s sure to scour the pots and pans looking for some hidden All Clad prize. He also really likes knickknacks—that second ‘k’ seems unnecessary —some statue or figurine. I know. It’s hilarious. So Home Goods is the store for him. I will usually end up at the greeting card section or find myself getting lost in the fuzzy blankets or spinning on an inexplicable yellow ottoman.
We’ll often grab some weird item, roll it around in the cart for a while, ponder over it, then eventually discard it. We consider it ours for the duration of the trip, because obtaining it in our domain just feels a bit too unnecessary, even for us. “Bye, it was fun while it lasted” as we cast it aside, I mean put it back where it belongs. One time he put a giant statue of some kind in the cart and I quietly waited, watching to see what would happen.
But the best is at the check-out when the person helping us asks,
“Did you find everything you were looking for?”
Ah, yes. The question that forces us to confront ourselves and the choices we’ve made. If I were this check-out person I would 100% ask this question facetiously. Determined to own our actions, whatever they may be, looking her straight in the eye, we power through the shame, and boldly, if a bit sarcastically, do it. Our imagined response: “Yes, I got everything I came in here for. All the items on my list: Fuzzy throw pillow, cutting boards, a soap dispenser shaped like a lemon, muffin tin, a stack of random greeting cards, bed pillows, glass food containers, roll of wrapping paper, and a small trophy in the shape of a bronze thumbs up. That’s everything, yes.”
Ah, life is for the living!
I often have to steel myself to run errands. I have Walmart deliver so I don't have to go in the store. And SAK and I can only manage Costco if we go together. If he and I can run errands together then I MIGHT be able to handle it. Otherwise it's not worth it. I hear you!