|I hate shopping! Man do I hate shopping! How the hell did she talk me into coming with her? If she stops at one more bargain table, I’m going to excuse myself, go to the ladies’ room and slit my wrists with a nail file. It couldn't be any more excrutiating than this. |
For gawd’s sake, she’s looking at wool. She doesn’t even knit.
“Mmm, yes, nice colour. Who’s it for?”
She'll probably get it anyways and stash it in the basement with all her other 'bargains'.
“I guess it’s a good price, I haven’t knit or crochet in years.”
Oh good, she’s putting it down. Please, please, let’s go. No, no, no not the ribbons. Phew, okay I’m heading to the door. Is she following? Yes, she’s coming. Good. Hand on door . . . . Wait,
“What’s that? No, I really don’t need anything. Yes, I know they’re great prices. But I really don't want them. No, I don’t know anyone who does.”
Let's go. Oh crap! She's seen the marked down Halloween candy.
"No, not me. I can't afford the calories."
Yep, she's getting a few bags. She just cannot leave a store empty-handed. Well, now we can leave.
"No, I'm sure. Really. The boys don't need anymore candy, either."
Finally, out the door.
She calls it retail therapy. I call it retail hell.