Everything arrives at the door now. Prescriptions, coffee, dinner, whatever got forgotten. In summer that stops being convenience and becomes the only sensible arrangement, because for a few months the outdoors is a corridor between two air-conditioned rooms, and the weekend options narrow to malls. There is a limit to how many Saturdays you want to spend in the same shopping centre, however opulent it is.
The groceries we still do ourselves. Specifically the fruit and veg.
Partly that's because the staples are all there in theory and stock is another matter entirely, and half of what we pick up is short-dated, so you end up checking every packet regardless. But mostly it's that I don't trust anyone else to choose it. Someone shopping your list is working to speed and to whether the item matches the description. Nobody picking an avocado for a stranger is going to weigh three of them first.
I've wondered why that's the one job that stayed. It isn't the money and it certainly isn't the heat, since the heat argues the other way. It's that everything else on the list has a right answer printed on the packet, and produce doesn't. It's a judgement, and a judgement is the part you can't write into someone else's instructions.
So we hand over the fetching and keep the choosing. Which, now I write it down, is most of how I'd like everything else to work too.