I’m 70. My wife’s away for a few days. I’ve pretty much lived on pizza, salads and fresh fruit. I can cook perfectly well, but I’m not inclined to spend time cooking for one – and there are worse diets.
You are joking. I adore my wife, but I can do the regular shopping in under half the time that she takes. If she wants to come, that’s fine – but, most times, by preference I’d far rather go do it on my own.
I’ve been sent by my wife to buy underwear on multiple occasions. Frankly, after the first time it ceased being remotely embarassing. It’s not what you do, it’s how you do it, basically.
There’s more to it than that, though. At some point you have to put the gym bag back in the trunk. And all those steps to get to the rear of the car and back. It all adds up.
That was Zen.
And this is now.