I went to the grocery store to purchase vinegar, caramel ice cream, and razor blades. When I asked Jamie what the razor blades were for, she told me it had something to do with my forgetting to take out the trash. The caramel ice cream was all my idea.
At the store, I stood before a wall of millions of vinegar bottles.
“You look confused,” a young woman said, with a baby in her arms.
“I am, I have no idea which vinegar my wife wants.”
“What’s she going to use it for?”
I had no answer.
“Vinegar’s very trendy,” she said.
“If she’s using it for cooking, she probably wants white wine, or red wine. But if she’s using it for health purposes, she wants apple cider.”
“If she’s making a salad, she’ll want balsamic. Unless she’s making a salad for her mother-in-law, then she’ll want Leonardi’s aged balsamic, it’s twice the price.”
“If she’s cleaning house, she’ll want white vinegar. I’ve also read on Pinterest that rice vinegar cures depression, reduces body odor, and eases constipation.”
The woman’s baby grinned at me.
“Then there’s this,” she held a small bottle in her hand. “Fifty-percent concentrate vinegar. It’s like legal uranium. This stuff would eat the paint off the space shuttle. My mother uses it as insecticide for her garden, and my father’s convinced she’s trying to kill him by cooking with it.”
I smiled, “That’s the one.”