Homemaking Tips--Misjudging

You are all so very generous in your comments. Thank you. Maybe I ought to explain why I think I'm a poor judge of character.

I lived in an apartment like most everyone else when I went to college. A large men's apartment complex was next to our small women's one and we were nearer the college, so the men filed by all day long. The men's apartments were filled with early-to-mid-twenty-year-olds, except for one. He was 72. I felt sorry for him. He wore plaid pants and a derby when plaid pants and a derby weren't in style. I figured his roommate's BeeGee's, Abba and Chicago albums must have been terribly annoying to him. One day he asked me if I'd like to go and get something to eat with him. I assumed he was missing his family, especially his grandkids, and since I have always enjoyed the geriatric generation I agreed. He was pleasant . . . and odd enough. He scolded me a bit for the kind of salad I ate. He paid by the pound and said I shouldn't eat so much water-weighted lettuce and should eat the heavier proteins instead to get more for his money. I felt like I'd done a nice service when we were finished eating.

The next week, he asked me to go to lunch again. (Oh, how could I have forgotten to tell you his name? His name was Godfrey.) I agreed. This time, I tried to go heavier on the sunflower seeds and lighter on the lettuce. However, I drank water before my meal was finished and he told me the hazards of drinking fluids while eating solids. After I put my water aside, he told me about raising Rex rabbits. He was never at a loss for conversation. Towards the end of our meal he mentioned children. The longer he talked the more I realized he wasn't talking about his 50 year old children, but about future children. Horrors. Suddenly I realized Godfrey wasn't looking for a surrogate granddaughter, but for a wife. I left shuddering. He called and asked me to homecoming soon after that and I explained no, not now, not ever. In his strange accent he told me how disappointed he was in me and my immaturity and asked if he could talk to my roommate. Ha. He asked her. They kicked him out of the apartments shortly after that.

One misjudge shouldn't label me for life, but at that same time I met Calvin. My roommates were discussing him one night when I came into the apartment. I joined in the conversation and said, "Ohhhhh . . . I've heeaarrrrd about him. He's been married, divorced, got two kids and he's too much for us to handle," then I exited again. A couple of days later Calvin called and asked me out and well . . . four additional children later I'm so glad he was something I could handle.

After a few more miscalls and reading a quote by President Lincoln that said, "Even the Lord doesn't propose to judge a man 'till the end of his days," I thought, "You know. You're really not very good at this and it doesn't look like it's your job anyway."

Now, one thing I am good at judging is grocery prices. I'm down in Big Town today grocery shopping. I drove down with Cali and while she's at a work meeting, I'm at the community library waiting for her. I just finished my big haul, in fact the trunk dragged as I pulled out of the parking lot. Grocery prices have taken a dramatic jump and they're changing the rules. The big tub of peanut butter (in the brand we buy) has always been the most economical. Today I noticed the smallest tub available is cheaper per ounce, even though the large tub was on sale. Conversely, the largest can of shortening has always been more expensive, but today the small can cost more per ounce. My homemaking reminder today is to check the unit prices . . . again. The middleman has been busy.