On Shopping

I don't know about you, but I think shopping rots.

I think going from store to store looking at things you never really intend to buy is tantamount to time robbery. My philosophy is: Go to one store, get in, get 'it', get out, go find the bookstore. I'd almost rather have a root canal than trail around to several places, check all the prices, decide which item makes me look less like a hippopotamus on water pills, decide it's too expensive, and start the whole excruciating process all over again.

Once I decided to make myself a plate rack/curtain rod set for my living room. I designed everything and wanted to go pick out the lumber and get down to business. Unfortunately I took my beloved husband along. When I go to Home Depot, I go straight to the man in the little orange apron and ask for exactly what I want. For me, looking at boxes of screws and bags of cement and plumbing pipes isn't all that gripping. My husband is one of those men who walks up and down the aisles for several days, looks at everything, and then goes home to think about it. And that's what he did!

I figured that maybe measuring the windows and the walls above said windows could possibly be a good idea, so that time it was acceptable (even though I knew I'd have to have at least six long boards for the project and we have a stinkin' saw). I measured twice and came away with what I felt were acceptable measurements. My second mistake was taking him back with me! He still wasn't happy with my measurements and it was my project!

I was nearly apoplectic when he dragged me home lumber-less that second time. I was beginning to doubt my admittedly slight prowess as a persuader of husbands. I felt that if we went home a third time without my shelves, I'd be bucking a straight jacket. I don't know whether he saw the tic in my eye or that slight trigger finger twitch but the third trip we finally left with lumber. And the shelves look spectacular, I might add.

My sister, Lisa, is a shopping maven! She might take a month moving around one store but she comes out with slamming deals every time. We know that if she's shopping, she's going to be at least two hours late for whatever we were going to do together. But she has peerless taste and doesn't settle for garbage. I bow in awe of her shopping prowess.

I, on the other hand, glance around quickly, see what looks like something resembling what I want, and sprint for the checkout stand. I've come away with some truly repugnant messes, only lightly disguised. I'd almost rather go on wearing my dowdy, outdated, dumb-looking hand-me-downs than go shopping for clothes.

I don't know if you noticed the bookstore reference. That is a different fish altogether. I'll shop for books. I could support one of those Barnes and Noble clerks for a whole year on the money I spend there on books and the occasional Gaelic Storm CD. I still never leave book-less, though. That's massively counterproductive.

Now if only Lisa could find those dancing shoes I want...