Shopping in your sleep

Living as we do a good 12 miles from the nearest supermarket, it makes good sense for me to do the shopping when I leave work, as there is a supermarket a stones throw from the office. In fact I often spend my lunch hours throwing stones at the supermarket, but that is a different story.
Being a man, I hate shopping almost as much as I hate settling the credit card bill afterwards, so it also makes sense to go when it is quite. The two happy events coincide when I finish night shifts.
There is nothing quite like walking into an empty supermarket at 7 a.m. with plenty of parking spaces, loads of trolleys and generally empty aisles. You have to dodge the odd cleaner (and some of them are VERY odd) and the occasional shelf stacker, but by and large you can make progress. There is little chance of being held up by Edna and Doris having a prolonged natter whilst blocking aisle 4 (tinned fruit) and all the young mums are still out on the school run, so there are no screaming toddlers demanding sweeties.
There is also a good selection of marked down "best before" bargains to be had.
The downside is I am often sleepwalking by then, and just want to get it all over with and go home.
My dearest lady wife, 'er indoors, sweetness and light, who must be obeyed at all costs writes me a list. However her list only contains the things SHE needs reminding to buy. In her head she keeps a standard list of all the ordinary things like bread, eggs, milk etc. The list is things that aren't "ever day items" and are supplementary to her inbuilt default woman shopping settings. I know nothing of these inbuilt default settings, hence will arrive home with no eggs, flour, sugar, potatoes, carrots etc etc. As a man I shop logically, buying what is on the list, and one or two things that might catch my eye - e.g. wine, beer, pies, pizza, car magazines, a new DVD player etc etc.
I have however become adept over the last 15 years of marriage at second guessing what might be needed. Cheese for example always goes down well. you can't buy enough cheese. Or enough variety of cheese. Flowers are a life saver too.
The list however always, but always has it's pitfalls. This is partly because dearest wife has scribbled the list whilst it was pinned to the kitchen wall as and when things came into her head using whatever dodgy Biro, crayon or pencil came to hand - I've even had list written in chalk if she was childminding at the time. Combined with her unique spelling it always throws up a mystery item or two that I either can't read, can't find or didn't know existed. Quark for example, despite sounding like a character from Star Trek turns out to be a type of allergy friendly cheese that the girl child eats. Pommygranite was sort of easy to understand, if sounding like an Aussie interpretation of a hard wearing stone.
Her abbreviation for Frozen is Froz, which because of the afore mentioned handwriting issues once lead me to buy 71 ounces of fresh Raspberries instead of a single packet of "Froz Rasps" That was one hell of a lot of Raspberries.
She also writes up the bleeding obvious - things like "Coloured Cheese" feature in her list. Well, I have searched and searched and all the cheese I have ever seen have colour. There may well be some Tibetan Yak Translucent Cheese somewhere in the supermarket, but I have yet to find it.
Fortunately Wifey does "cluster" items together in her own brain logic way, such that all fruit will be together on the list, making it easier to locate said items all in the one area before moving on. This means that I am now able to anticipate and interpret not only what she wants, but also what she needs, and what she thinks she needs and also what I ought to think she thinks she needs. Our relationship is moving towards the telepathic.
Thus when I found the word Corguettes (sic) scattered amongst the frozen food items I was able to logically deduct that what she actually wanted was potato croquettes. And I was right!