The most recent troubling forgetfulness happened today. But I need to preface this story with an introduction. I love Doritos. No, seriously, I looove Doritos. They were traveling food when I was a kid. I’d be in the back seat of the VW bug as we went from Durham, NC up to the Shack in Virginia — a rustic cabin in the blue ridge mountains. I hated the trip. 3 hours in the car every other weekend or so, but I loved being at the shack. It’s so verdant. I loved the wet, rain smell that I got to experience so often as we climbed out of the foothills into the mountains. But the one thing that made that long voyage bearable was that we got to eat Doritos. The spicier, the nacho cheesier, the better. When I could finally do it with my lawn mowing money, I went and bought myself as big a bag of Doritos that existed, and sat down and ate the whole bag in one sitting. Thinking back on it, I have to wonder how I managed to distract my parents long enough for that to happen. So, in case you missed it earlier, I love Doritos.
As an adult, with an adult’s metabolism, I don’t eat Doritos much any more. Between budget and calories, there’s just no real call to have them in the house. This week, our local grocery store was having a special. Not only were Doritos discounted when you use your “bonus” card, but they were ALSO buy one, get one free. Something about an upcoming super bowl or something, maybe. As house husband, I do most of the meal prep, and most of the grocery shopping. It took a great deal of self-control to not buy 2 bags of Doritos. (Or maybe 4 or 6, I mean, c’mon… buy one get one FREE!)
Finally, today, I gave in. Sam and I went on a walk together (her in the Bjorn, bundled up mostly beneath my big blue jacket) to the private mailbox I rent for my business which is right next to the grocery store. And, yes, to the grocery store. I was going to get a couple veggies, and I was going to buy one and get one FREE. It’s a little over a mile away, and it was pretty nippy weather — upper 30’s (F) maybe. We made it just fine. I picked up my mail, said ‘Hi’ to the nice cashier (who just adores Sam), and went over to the grocery store. I was in the checkout line, illicit booty in hand and deciding whether to pay cash, or put it on the debit card when I reached for my wallet.
It was not there. It was on the desk next to the computer. I’d just renewed a couple of domain names, and I failed to do the 4-pocket-pat before I left. D’oh! In the rush to get Sam together (Backpack with formula and water — just in case, little snowsuit, jacket and hat, my jacket, the baby bjorn) I just didn’t do it. Crushed, and embarrassed, I put the basket aside and slunk home. Doritos distinctly NOT in hand.