My sunglasses are broken and we get a whole lot of sun here in the land of Great Big Skies, especially in the winter when the sun glares off the snow. Someone must have heard my complaints about the endless grey sky because the sun has returned. And I did need new sunglasses.
And I did need a sweater. I wear a lot of threadbare clothes. It's because I have favourites and because I care about comfort more than I do about fashion. Clothes are at their most comfortable when they reach that ratty stage, when the knees are just about to poke through and threads are hanging down from the cuffs of the sleeves. Sometimes Shawn tries to make my clothes worse by pulling at the threads in vain attempts to make them unwearable - this in hopes it will encourage me to buy something new.
After lunch yesterday I decided to try and find both sunglasses and a sweater. I shop like my Dad does ---a straight line to the item I want with no browsing, trying on clothes only if absolutely necessary and doing so in the aisle of the store rather than in a fitting room, and making a straight line back to the car. Home home home!
The saleslady asked me if I would like my items gift-wrapped, and I had this weird moment of indecision where I was thinking how nice it would be to take them home wrapped up in pretty paper with ribbons and bows on them and give them to myself to unwrap. I'm such a weird girl. Finally I decided not to be a loon and said no thanks, but of course by then the lady believed these were gifts and so I had to listen to her tell me what to do if the person I was giving them to didn't like them or found they didn't fit properly - and wait patiently while she printed a "gift receipt".
Shawn was happy that I had a new sweater and he called me "Mrs. FancyPants" which is the same name he calls Little Puppy when she refuses to eat dog food.
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