One of my jobs as a husband and father is medical in nature.

I’m not talking about putting bandages on booboos and kissing cat scratches better, though there’s plenty of that. I’m really something of an amateur medical researcher.

Alert readers may remember that I was the first to properly describe and diagnose M.G.S. (Morning Grumpus Syndrome). Many years of careful observation of Christine’s mood prior to noontime led to this important breakthrough.

Before my pioneering work in this field there was a misconception that the problem actually lies with the so-called Morning People. As if there’s something wrong with being so bright and cheerful during the a.m. hours that you sing The Eagles’ “Take It to the Limit” in its entirety.

Well, I’m somewhat less pleased to report another breakthrough in my research. I can now confidently identify and quantify R.R.R.R. (Retail-Related Rage Reactions). I’m sorry to say this too afflicts my lovely bride of nearly 13 years.

I’ll give you an example. It was a typical Saturday and we were working our way around one of those big box home improvement centers.

You may remember the scene from “Old School” where this older married guy, Frank, played by Will Ferrell, is talking to a college kid at a party. Frank explains he’s got a big day tomorrow.

“We’re going to go to Home Depot,” Frank says. “Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don’t know. I don’t know if we’ll have enough time.”

That kind of sums up my life.

I had several things to look for since my 100-plus-year-old house is determined to fall down around my ears. I like to drag Christine and the kids out with me since I don’t get to see as much of them during the workweek.

We ended up in the kitchen section where they had all of these little tiles showing the colors you could pick for your countertop. Well, my 4-year-old daughter thought those were pretty great. She decided to take one off here and put it back over there, and then maybe we could play a little 52-pickup with all the pretty colors.

I figured Christine would be busy for a while pondering the various colors. I told her I would take the 8-year-old to the bathroom. What I didn’t say was that I would then wander around the store for 45 minutes and never return to this particular spot. Later, during the investigation and criminal tribunal, this would be pointed out to me repeatedly as an important point.

After my son Wesley had attended to business, I took him down to the doorknob section of the store. I have one of those doorknobs in my old house that just keeps popping off and I was determined to do something about it.

Then we looked for batteries and mousetraps.

I stopped to lodge a complaint with a clerk because I could see a line of five water fountains in a row. I had to ask him if someone had threatened to sue the company over dehydration or what.

Then I ran into someone I knew and took some time to catch up with them.

Suddenly, I sensed this shadowy presence coming up on me from behind. It was kind of like a cloud going over the sun. I felt cold for no reason.

I turned around and saw my wife pushing her shopping cart toward me with the 4-year-old riding in the kid seat.

“There you are!” Christine said.

It wasn’t like, “There you are, my sweet husband. Your absence has made my heart grow fonder these last few minutes.”

It was like, “Aha! There you are caught in the act!”

I was in the middle of talking to a gentleman I knew at the time, but she wasn’t concerned about that. It was one of the few times I actually tried to introduce her to someone.

The exact wording she used is a little fuzzy in my memory. She spoke somewhat fast and her cheeks were flushed red. I felt like she might have been yelling, but she told me later “I was whisper-yelling!”

Christine had been looking all over for Wes and me. She had tried standing in one place and waiting for us to pass. She had tried wandering the store. She even told me her neck hurt from turning to look down so many aisles. In addition, the 4-year-old I had left with her had created various challenges along the way.

Christine had finally given up and had me paged over the loud speaker with no positive result.

I was so oblivious that I had not heard my name called over the loud speaker!

The resulting tirade left me astonished on several counts. First of all, when Christine and I were first married, she was so shy and quiet that she found it mortifying if I merely asked her a question in a store like, “Didn’t we need tuna fish?” Other people might hear me, and find out we needed tuna fish. How intolerably embarrassing!

And here she was whisper-yelling at me in front of people.

Usually, I know when I’m doing something that might get me in trouble. This time I had no inkling as I meandered around that her needles could be going into the red.

The good news is that I have applied myself to learning an important lesson from this experience. I realize now, it’s all the kids’ fault.

Before they came along and acted like crazed monkeys in stores, Christine only had to tolerate two things: the stores and me. Two things she can handle. Four lead to R.R.R.R.

Stay tuned for next week’s installment on Christine’s own medical discovery,  M.O.P.E. (Misplaced Oblivious Paternal Everyman syndrome).

And the prognosis isn’t good.