The Groceryman Always Rings Twice

The groceries came about 20 minutes late this morning. (I call them groceries even though they included bottles of scotch and wine. But then again, I am leading a campaign here to have alcohol added as a food group. If it gets down to negotiations, I am even willing to let them remove leafy green vegetables so we don't end up with too many food groups.)

For the past couple of months, Linda has been ordering groceries online, and they get delivered the next day. It brings out the bargain hunter in her, and when she sees, for example, that toilet paper is 25% off, she buys an amount that could best be expressed as two levels above bulk.

That is one of the downsides of online shopping. When you are in the store and have filled up two shopping carts with toilet paper, you get a very strong visual signal that it's time to move to the next aisle. But online, you just order away.

I understand LK's thinking. Toilet paper is something that will always get used - especially with Don around.

What she doesn't seem to think about is that we have run out of cupboard space where we can put toilet paper. In fact, I believe she is considering getting lots of little table cloths, stacking the packs of TP and covering them as if they were end tables. I suppose that's better than making 640 of those little crochet covers some people use. Now that would be a design statement.

We've been shopping and doing business online for many years, but recently it seems to have taken on a momentum of its own. In just the past few days I ordered office supplies, LK ordered flowers for Christmas, I sent some Christmas presents from Amazon, we moved money into a term deposit at the bank, downloaded music for the iPod, paid just about every bill we have, played poker, booked a tradesman to come and do some repairs at the house, and I even booked the Salvation Army to pick up some donations.

Yesterday I told Linda that we had to be careful or we would never see another human except for delivery people. (That doesn't count the kids when they need something.)

Two thousand years ago, you pretty much had to wander off into the desert or a cave, but today becoming a hermit is a practical option. I don't know why I would want that, but I guess you'll know I've moved there when I even avoid speaking with the delivery people by handing them a sheet that says I have taken a vow of silence.