The night of the living bon-bons

The kids are getting older, so my wife Sue and I could be excused for not remembering to buy Easter candy until late Saturday night. We hit the local Wal-Mart after 9 p.m. and the candy aisles looked like one of Saddam Hussein's palaces after the newly liberated populace used their freedom to pillage and before the United States Armed Services secured the joint.

Candy was strewn everywhere and jelly beans rolled on the floor like sucrose ball bearings, although it should be noted that those orange Circus Peanut things were left untouched.
Sue began to examine the remaining confections shelf by shelf, item by item, picking one up, looking it over and then putting it back. This was a time-consuming task.

I, on the other hand, found a huge bag of assorted candies for sale, and shoved it at her.
"Here,'' I said, "Let's go.'' And we did.

"You know,'' Sue said as we drove home, "with a little more time I could have found a better bargain on the candy and better candy to boot.'' I try not to make judgments on classes of people, preferring to dislike them as individuals. But I have come to see that there are gender differences. This love of shopping, for example, of comparing and contrasting beyond any reasonable explanation, seems to me to be a woman thing.

When I buy shoes, for example, it's a 10-minute process. For Sue, it can take days, what with the making of base camp, the hiring of sherpas and all. Am I right about this man/woman shopping dichotomy or just all wet?