In Sickness and Insane

For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer. In sickness and in health. I made these vows {along with others} back when I married my husband. But didn’t realize it would mean accepting a quirky cereal obsession that puts my shoe collection to shame. So if an apocalypse ever takes place, my family will be hanging out in the pantry. Surviving off Lucky Charms, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, a bazillion kinds of Cheerios and whatever else might be in there. in-sickness-and-insane

I don’t think I can believe someone when they say they know everything about their significant other. Because you really shouldn’t. There are facets about each of us that are meant for just ourselves. And there are constantly developed aspects about each of us that are revealed over time. Because people change. It’s how we grow. It’s how we survive. And it’s exactly how life works. My husband? He’s a dorky kind of gem. And more of those characteristics tend to shine the longer we are together. My days are filled with many moments that cause me to laugh, shake my head, roll my eyes or blankly stare at him. Because I’m just THAT confused. Our pantry gets me every time I walk into it. EVERY. TIME.

He doesn’t even eat cereal for breakfast. He rarely has breakfast…maybe on the weekends. But when he does, it’s definitely not cereal. Nope. That absurd collection of empty calories are his evening snacks. Twenty-five boxes currently exist. Yes. TWENTY-FIVE. {You can insert shaking head right about now}. After we moved into this house last year, I knew it was going to be trouble. Our previous place was a townhome with a significantly small pantry closet. You had to literally DIG through all the boxes to get what you really wanted. And then somehow cram them all back in to shut the door. It drove me absolutely nuts. So when we found this house and I saw the enormous pantry, I knew I was in trouble. But it’s a trade-off. Grocery shopping is not fun. It’s a chore. Another to-do on my list. But my husband? He loves it. For real. It’s another weird obsession of his. I think he sees it as a game; nabbing coupons, deals and other discounts and getting as close to the budgeted amount each time. It doesn’t matter that we don’t need ten cans of diced tomatoes. Or a giant sized tub of cheese balls.

“But baby, they were 10 for $1.”

“But baby, when the heck are we going to go through ten of them?! You don’t even eat tomatoes.”

“The tub was on sale AND on cartwheel.”

“Of course it was. They were probably hoping some schmuck like yourself would come along and think it was a great idea.”

Seriously. It’s an inherited trait. Ask my mother in-law. It comes down the Trauger line so I guess my husband can blame genetics. Ha! {Give that one to science}. Basically, I give him a list of “must-haves” and he does the rest. Hence the cereal. And every other sweet treat our home is filled with. But if I’m going to pass the baton then I need to let him run. It doesn’t mean my head isn’t spinning off to the side. But I’ve long surrendered. And I’m alright with that. What’s the worst that can happen? His teeth rot and he gains fifty pounds? For better or for worse. In sickness and insane. I’m stuck with it [him]. And I couldn’t be happier.

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