Dearest Rachel –
I really shouldn’t be grocery shopping when I’m planning to go out of town. Sure, a few snacks for the road – or even the hotel room; we always used to bring a supply from the local Japanese market when we would go to an anime convention, but that was often in anticipation of a room party, which is rarely a thing anymore, especially since I don’t expect to know anyone there these days – is understandable, but buying food for the house seems pointless, especially when it comes to stuff on clearance.
It’s not as if I have any right to blame you for my own poor impulse control; sure, you were always looking for the best deals on everything when you were out shopping, and I may have picked up the habit (and to be fair, when I was growing up, our family had to be cagey with our money more often than not as well), but that’s no excuse for buying a bunch of dishes that absolutely must be eaten before I leave town, lest they spoil and I’d have wasted the money I may have thought I saved. As the old joke goes, no one can afford to save so much money.
Still, there is always this concern in the back of my mind regarding Daniel. He will, in extremis, go out in search of food from time to time, but those times when he does are few and far between. I want to make sure he has enough around him so that he doesn’t go hungry.
Besides, I keep finding this or that thing that I think he might like, and so, without bothering to ask (because I expect to get a noncommittal “meh” from him no matter what I’m asking him about), I will buy and bring these things home for him to hopefully enjoy while I’m away.
I should also mention that, while I was at this particular supermarket, I’d had every intention of keeping my shopping to a minimum; just a container of fruit for me to eat at breakfast, and – assuming I could find one, which I couldn’t – restock the pantry with another jar of dark chocolate hazelnut spread. To that end, I tried to limit myself to a basket, rather than a cart, but I couldn’t find one. I must have looked puzzled by the lack, as I was actually approached by a manager, asking if he could help me find something (you don’t think I’d actually seek out and talk to a manager myself, now, do you?) When I asked him about a basket, he rather apologetically informed me that people kept taking them home with their purchases, and so corporate decided not to restock the store with them.
This is why we can’t have nice things. Somehow, I don’t see this happening in Sekaiminato.
***
I don’t know if or when Daniel will actually eat any of these things. However, it’s the closest thing I have to expressing my concern for him. I know that food (or gifts of any sort) is not his love language, but I’m starting to think that it may be one of mine. It would explain why I’ve had to work so hard on my weight after years of accretion. And it’s so easy for me to spot something while out shopping, and at least think he might enjoy it.
It was easier for me to get you what you wanted; if I was out, you were usually there. I didn’t need to surprise you (not that you would have appreciated it if and when I did, as a general rule); you could tell me what it was you wanted while we were together. Here, I can only take a rough stab in the dark, as he stays at home, and even if he’s asked, tends to respond noncommittally.
On the other hand, I think he knows what I’m trying to do, and why. He did seem pleased when I unpacked everything. So now it’s just a matter of whether he’ll remember what’s there when he gets hungry or thirsty, and take advantage of it all… and whether it’ll be when I’m gone, and if he’ll think of me when he does. Not that it really matters, I suppose, but if it’s the thought that counts, it would be nice to be counted on.
Anyway, keep an eye on us, honey, and wish us luck. We’re going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 