Which struck fear into the very core of my being.
Because I knew what awaited me. That is, though there might only have been three simple items on the list, once I got to the store, I would find that, for each of those three simple items, there would be multiple variations modified by multiple adjectives that, for me, a simple and common man, would be undecipherable, unfathomable and, most important, unable to allow me to go home until I figured it out.
Lincoln had the Civil War.
I faced "One pint of buttermilk."
Scientists have striven for ages to pry Earth's secrets from her tightly clasped hands.
While I have striven for over ten minutes to decide which kind of cheese to buy.
So there I stood, with the words "Salted Butter" in front of me. And butter is the worst. Multiple variations and sizes. Everything from "Unsalted" to "Salted and Sweet."
Which is when I almost gave in and called home.
Yes, my wife has learned that, when I go to the store, she has to keep her phone handy. That's because I'll likely be calling home for more details about items on the list.
But, instead, I defined myself.
Right there in the butter aisle, I made a stand - for myself and for all men. Like William Wallace in "Braveheart," except I yelled "I will buy the salted and sweet butter!" instead of "Freedom!"
A longer statement, yes, but just as powerful.
And my decision will echo through the years.
But then came the cheese aisle.
Where's my phone?
