I will NEVER learn.
Nineteen years and counting, and I STILL can’t stop myself from inviting Basil on shopping trips. (My husband, that is, not the herb.)
And every single time, I spend most of the trip either trying to move him along or traversing every square inch of the store trying to find where he wandered off to.
His parents’ habit of using a harness and tying him to a tree as a kid (no joke — it’s legendary and the accompanying picture is not photoshopped) is family lore, and I used to feel sorry for his younger self.
Now I empathize with his mother. And I am not nearly as charmed today by the story in which a pint-sized Basil and his cousin learned to untie each other and escaped to the shore during a family picnic at Sherwood Island only to see an army of Greek relatives advancing over the hill toward them.
Tonight was a perfect example. I had a very short break in the midst of a crazy long workday and an extra long grocery list because we have company coming on Saturday. I’m desperate to maximize every minute. Ever hopeful, I suggested he meet me at the market to speed the shopping process.
Basil cannot keep to a list, is drawn to every processed food ever created, and is like a child in the store — mesmerized by all the sights and sounds despite his 56 years.
Didn’t I want this brand? Didn’t we need that food? Had I seen this product? Did we have enough of these? Wasn’t I planning to make a second entree someone was hankering for at Saturday’s dinner?
(Like, in my spare time, maybe?!)
Several times I found him standing in front of a display, mouth agape in wonder while the minutes ticked by and my patience thinned.
Yes, I was pushing on a rope.
Well, until we got the cart out to the parking lot and he told me to drive home while he packed up the grocery bags and drove them home.
Of course, once in the kitchen, he didn’t know where any of the purchases should go.