Can You Get…

Any time I leave the house, I always ask my husband and kids if they need anything from the grocery store or Walgreens or Target or wherever I happen to be headed. They usually do – and it’s almost never something easily located.

Daughter 1: “Yes! Can you please get me some micellar water? The one in the green bottle. I can’t remember the name.”

Daughter 2: “Yes! Can you please get me some Australian licorice? But only the red kind, and only Australian.”

Husband: “Yes! Can you please get me three big mesh bags with drawstrings, like, about 36 inches long and kind of heavy duty?”

People, I’m going to Walgreens, not Narnia. Can you not just ask for, I don’t know, a bottle of shampoo and maybe some jerky or whatever? Something less painfully specific at least?

I know that I’ve created these monsters. Acts of service – that’s my love language. So I hunt down the micellar water – spoiler alert: it wasn’t the one in the green bottle. It was the one in the pink bottle with the green label. And what is micellar water? It’s basically water with tiny molecules of soap floating in it, I think, and it’s kind of waterproof-ish, so it’s essentially waterproof soapy water that costs way more than it should. And why Australian licorice? Because it’s apparently the best licorice, for whatever that’s worth. And giant, heavy duty mesh bags? Why do we need those? Please. Like I asked. And also, if Walgreens doesn’t sell them, how do they even exist?

I would so dearly love to be one of those women that lives like a queen in her own home. It just looks like the best gig ever. I had a neighbor once who had only to snap her fingers and the whole family jumped to respond. No request was too much, no demand too unreasonable. She could have woken the whole house at 3 am because she wanted a chocolate-covered frozen banana and one of them would by God fire up the car and head to the nearest Wawa store. Can you even imagine? Meanwhile, the rest of us are over here being all kinds of self-negating, all but giving birth in the hall closet so that the winter coats can muffle the screaming and blot up the mess. Hate to be a bother and all that.

If I could be hypnotized into changing my ways, I’d do it. I’d do it today. Or maybe they’ll invent an app – a NOOM for people pleasers and doormats. I’d buy that. In the meantime, I’m headed out. Anyone need anything?

Ashleigh Fiorino