“Peanut Butter Mismanagement” By Chris Zito

Anyone with children under ten knows that there is a peanut allergy epidemic in this country. Our home, mercifully, has been spared. Good thing too, because my wife and I are both addicted to the stuff.


“We’re the Sid and Nancy of Skippy.”

Recently, as my wife has begun to spend more hours working outside our home and I’ve been hanging around the house during the day trying to find a radio gig, I’ve taken over things like the laundry, the bed making, and grocery shopping. The bed’s don’t have hospital corners, but they’re presentable. And my white t-shirts never come out pink.


Looks pretty good right? Yeah, not mine.

I’m not a fan of the grocery store. Even here in the twenty-first century, it is a woman’s domain. Experts with expandable coupon files and toddlers facing them in their little shopping cart seats throw me disapproving looks that say , “Why aren’t you at work? Get a job!” Hey, lady! I have a job. I’ve got to decide whether to get the navel oranges or the tangelos!


“Tsk, tsk. It’s double coupon day. If you don’t have any
coupons you’re losing twice the savings.”

All and all it’s worked out fine. Somehow there’s food in the house and the extra pantry in the garage has remained stalked.
Until yesterday.
I used the last of the peanut butter while making breakfast and went out to the garage to bring in a fresh jar.
No peanut butter.
My heart rate began to rise. My palms got sweaty. My stomach turned. Withdrawal already? How could that be, I just had some peanut butter! Simply the idea of not having any peanut butter in the house was making me sick. Shame rose up from my heels. How could you let this happen, I admonished myself. You’re in charge of the groceries. You’re responsible for the peanut butter supply!


Why couldn’t I have just been caught with a hooker?
This is too much to bear.

My wife looked at me with a mixture fear and bewilderment. How could the man she trusted more than anyone in the world do this to us? My son, my little boy, learned a valuable lesson that day. Daddy isn’t perfect. Far from it, son. Far from it. After they left for work and school. I got in the car and headed straight to BJ’s wholesale shopping club.


Try the Costco, lady. BJ’s just had a big run on peanut butter.

As God as my witness, we’ll never run out again.

Thanks for reading. Tell your pals.
Chris Zito


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One Response

  1. Too funny! I run out of things every time someone takes something from my “stocked” pantry and doesn’t tell me. Then a week or two later – BAM! We are all out of blah-blah! Well! DUH! If you take the last one from the pantry….ADD IT TO THE SHOPPING LIST! LOL! but this is the cycle – never to be broken – just endured! hope you find a gig soon – miss you on the radio!

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