Monday, May 23, 2011

Shopping Shenanigans

I had planned to do three things on Saturday morning; withdraw money from the bank, go to Easylife Furniture to buy a living room set, go home and spend the rest of the day relaxing.

So I rolled out of bed around 9:00, went through the whole morning routine (Head-Shaving: An Adventure in Blood Loss), and I was ready to roll by 9:30.

"Okay, Theresa, I'm outta here. I'll be back in about half an hour."  That truly was my plan.  Thirty minutes, no more no less.  I'm a guy, running a couple errands isn't exactly blind-folded quadruple by-pass surgery.

"Oh," she said.  "You mean you don't want me to come with you?"

This is what's known as a "loaded question" which is to say, it's not a question.  It was Theresa's thinly-veiled way of saying, "Yay!  Shopping!"  I realized of course that if I'd said, "Nah, I"ve got this," I was going to get the pouty-faced guilt trip, so I took a deep breath and replied:

"Of course I do, honey, I'd like nothing better than to take you to the furniture store.  I was just thinking that maybe you'd have better things to do than tag along with me."

Translation:  "Shit."

I went to the living room and turned on the television while Theresa went through her whole morning routine.  Shower, hair, makeup, primping, selecting an outfit, nail-filing, eye-brow tweezing, brushing her teeth, selecting a different outfit, and of course picking out the right shoes.  She wrapped it up at 11:00, or put another way, about half an hour after I would've been back had I gone by myself.  Had I stuck to my original game plan, I'd be eating my lunch already.  Not that I am bitter.

First stop, Bank of America (motto: Fees, Fees, and More Fees),where I filled out the withdrawal slip for a hefty wad of cash.  Furniture is not inexpensive unless you're into Gilligan's Island bamboo stuff, which Theresa and I are not.

We drove to Easylife Furniture to pay for the living room set we'd picked out the previous evening.  I located Pete, the odd-looking tobacco-stained Easylife sales representative, and filled out the paperwork while Theresa wandered off to check out dressers.

I forgot to tell you this, but we had purchased a dresser the night before, right after we'd selected the living room furniture.  Our new dresser was at home in our bedroom as we shopped that morning, so why Theresa felt the need to browse the dresser area is anyone's guess.  But far be it from me to question such things, at least to her face.

So anyway, I gave a couple grand to Pete the salesman, and we arranged for the furniture to be delivered on Thursday.  Bada bing, bada boom, we were out of there, and I seriously thought we'd be getting home around noonish.

That's because I'm very naive.

We pulled out of the Easylife parking lot, and headed -- I thought -- back to the house.  Apparently, Theresa had other plans.

"Honey, can we stop by PetSmart? I need to get some diapers for Newton."

Mustering all my strength, I refrained from both sighing and rolling my eyes because that would've only turned out badly.  "Sure, T, I'd be happy to go to PetSmart, there's nothing I'd rather be doing right now at all."

Sarcasm.  Not just an attitude, a way of life.

We went to PetSmart and located the Puppy Pampers.  I should probably explain this.  Due to Newton's unwillingness or inability to refrain from "marking his territory" in the house, Theresa and I have resorted to dressing the little pain in the ass in diapers.  This is even more important now, because if he pisses on the new furniture, I'm going to beat him to death with Big Bertha.

It's a golf club, shut up.

So Theresa grabs a package of the doggy diapers and we get in line.  Just when it's our turn, she looks at me and says, "Oh, wait, we need to get one of those watering dishes."

This time I lost the battle.  I rolled my eyes.

She selected an automatic-refill water dish, the kind where you fill up the tank, flip it upside down in the dish compartment, and forget all about it until the dogs come panting to the back door a week later.  We checked out, but as we were walking to the car I noticed that Theresa had mistakenly purchased the automatic-refill food dish, not the water dish.  She went back in and made the exchange while I contemplated the relative merits of hanging myself versus committing harakiri.

It was now 12:30.  I should've been home hours ago.

Theresa came back out with the water dish, but before she even got in the car, another store in the strip mall caught her eye.

"Hey, can we go check out that furniture place?"

Heavy sigh.  I didn't even bother fighting it.

"Why, what's over there?"


"Yeah, okay, and?"

"Well, I want to look at dressers."

Dressers.  Yet again.

"You mean like the one we bought last night and spent an hour or so putting together?"

"I want to see if we got a good deal."

"And if we didn't?"

"Just come on."

Unfinished?  Looks done to me.
So we went over to Dave's Unfinished Furniture.  I have to admit, the name captured my attention.  I imagined all sorts of half-completed items.  Three-legged chairs, cushionless couches, armoires without arms or whatever.  "Why yes, Theresa, we have a lovely dresser for you over here.   No drawers, though, is that a problem?"

Turns out that's not what unfinished furniture is.

While she was looking at dressers for about half an hour, I tried to recall a few plotlines of CSI: New York to see if I could figure out a way to remove trace evidence from a hypothetical murder scene. When Theresa finally finished perusing the showroom, we left with nothing but Dave's business card.

It was just after 1:30.

On the road again. We made it as far as the intersection of Amargosa and Bear Valley, less than a mile from Dave's Unfinished Furniture store.

"Oh, can we stop at Target?"

Maybe if I just pull out into the intersection, a speeding tractor trailer will . . .

"Sure, Theresa, why not?"

The Target store near our house is one of the new-and-improved SuperTargets.  They have groceries, clothes, electronics, pretty much anything you can imagine.  If there is a Hell, it's rife with SuperTargets and fabric stores.

It's important to remind you at this point, when I go shopping, I don't browse.  My shopping style can best be described as "find it, buy it, get the hell out."

Which bears not the slightest resemblance to Theresa's shopping style.

To Theresa, shopping is not a task, it's an event.  I've observed her technique on more than one occasion, and as far as I can tell, it's simply "wander up and down every aisle, comparing the useless crap in the store to the useless crap we have at home, stop and have a pretzel, try on clothes you have no intention of ever buying, go grab a latte from the in-store Starbucks, look at ugly shoes, consider buying a couple doggie toys for Newton the High-Maintenance Wondermutt, and maybe, just maybe, actually purchase something."

You can't be mad while eating a Double-Double.
Theresa put on her own production of Alice in Targetland while I suffered a Grand Mall seizure.

We left SuperTarget with a box of Cheez-its and a 12-pack of Diet Coke.

The time?  2:45.

Thankfully, we were only about a mile from home, so options for further course corrections from Theresa Friggin' Magellan were limited. But wouldn't you know it, she managed to pull it off.

"Hey, let's stop at In-N-Out Burger.  My treat."

All was forgiven.


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Eva Gallant said...

Shortest way to a man's heart---In and Out Burger!

Frank Lee MeiDere said...

Oh Lord, I hear you. 42 wash-cloths, 55 towels. So what does my wife always think we need more of? And it never fails that after we've bought something, be it curtains, canisters, or anything else, the first thing she wants to look at when we go anywhere afterwards are curtains, canisters, or whatever. If she weren't beautiful I'd have left her in a Zellers years ago and moved into my own bachelor pad.

So. Cal. Gal said...

That would drive me nucking futs!

I take a 1/2 hour to get ready, no matter how 'unready' I am. I grew up with brothers who said, "Wanna go? Be ready in a 1/2 hour." I no longer 'go with' them but old habits die hard.

I'm like you 'go in, get it, get out'. Not even In-n-Out would satisfy me if my guy made a day of it.

Tommy's? Maybe.

Peny@manometer said...

"Sarcasm. Not just an attitude, a way of life."

haha. I love this statement (not sarcastic though). And every spouse knows how to be sarcastic at times in order not to hurt the feelings of his/her other half. Whew! Anyway, I love the story, and can relate to it too (not on your part but I'm kinda like Theresa when it comes to shopping, eh).

notactuallygod said...

You realize of course the only one to blame for this lost day is yourself.

The magic of "no" is twofold. It not only makes bad things stop, it gets you respect. (it takes a few times to stick, but it's worth it)

Deb said...

I'm with So. Cal. on this one. I know what I want before I leave the house, go in, get it, and get the heck outta Dodge. No mall snooping for me!

Kev D. said...

"Translation: Shit"

Brilliant post, man.

Suldog said...

"Grand Mall seizure"

Line of the freakin' YEAR.

Jenn Flynn-Shon said...

Alice in Targetland just made people glance over here when I snorted out loud.

I'm with the other girls. I never leave the house without a list and a clear understanding that the more time I spend shopping for useless junk the less money I have for cool things. Like food.

Steph said...

haha, she's so smart! Good post!

Candy's daily Dandy said...

I don't get you guys. Seriously, if it isn't buying something for you then shopping is no fun, period.

Well I'm here to give you a news flash, we don't want you with us!!! I can't get my shop on with all that crying and wimpering taking place in the background.
Me and your credit card were doing fine all by ourselves. ;)

Anonymous said...

Not to put you on the spot... but what the hell, I'll go ahead and put you on it.

Did I read this story before?

However, I still enjoyed reading it, cuz funny is always worth a reread or two.


Jeff said...

In my humble opinion, the Cheez-its made the whole thing worthwhile.

The Speaker of the House said...

This is a perpetual conundrum for me and the Mrs. I feel strongly that Saturdays are for working on the house, she feels they are for shopping. Shopping is LEAST productive on a Saturday morning when everyone else is doing it and you must contend with traffic and old people. Ugh. I may need to blog about this as well...

Liza Krystal said...

I never leave the house without a list and a clear understanding that the more time I spend shopping for useless junk the less money I have for cool stores cordova tn

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