Saturday, December 7, 2013

My Casablanca Moment

I didn't get to post yesterday because my husband and I had the distinct pleasure of being one of Santa's many helpers as we trekked out to Target and Toys R Us for some last minute shopping. Important note: the love of my life has yet to embrace shopping as an enjoyable activity, but rather views it as an unpleasant task** to be checked off his list.

**Unpleasant= A Toys R Us shopping experience any given day January through December, so I understand his angst over shopping in this particular venue. However, Pier 1 is right across the street and cancels out the agony of walking around a toy store that assaults your eyes and ears.

sensory overload
google images

While wandering aimlessly walking around Target's Christmas candy section (I am a complete Scrooge about Christmas candy, which should be no surprise--see why here), it suddenly sounded like the roof was going to give way to the pounding rain (I think it always sounds louder in those big box stores, it echos or something), and we both looked at each other like 'uh-oh' because neither of us brought an umbrella, and we had quite the stash growing in our basket. Even though we checked out a full 30 minutes after we first heard the rain, it was still pummeling the pavement, making puddles in the parking lot and sending water splashing with each drop that hit. Great, I thought. We decided to make a run for our cars (we drove separately so he could go to work). He took off, sloshing through puddles and rain, but I did this sort of walk/run thing because I had on boots (it's hard to run in boots that come all the way up to your knees!), so by the time I got to my car, he was already loading the stuff into his. But I yelled through the rain that we needed to put the bags in my car so that I could hide it when I got home. It could have been a beautiful moment. The two of us. The rain. It was like something out of an old black-and-white romance right before the beautiful embrace and romantic kiss. Paul Walker would play my husband and...well, I would play me (since Paul Walker can no longer play the lead role, Shemar Moore would take his place).



My husband looked at me. He began unloading the bags back into the basket. He rolled the basket to me, standing in the pouring rain, my freshly flat-ironed hair getting ruined, and then.

That guy jumped right into his dry car.**

And left me to huddle under the shelter of my rear gate and load all those bags into my car.

My poor hair. Plus my glasses were all fogged up and rainy and I couldn't see a thing.

I, being grievously offended, shoved all the bags into the back of my car and then ruined my hair even more by stomping through the puddles and the rain to take the basket to it's proper return repository. 

 Harrumph.

**In his defense, he had on his work clothes and I don't blame him for not wanting to sit in wet clothes and shoes and socks all day, which I found out later, his shoes took all day to dry. Poor guy.

Just when I thought chivalry was a concept that could only be found in Casablanca, he got out of his car at Toys R Us, umbrella in hand, and walked over to mine so that we could stay semi-dry on our walk to the front door. It helps that I refused to actually get out of said car until the man with the umbrella appeared. Important note: when preparing to leave Toys R Us, do not put your golf umbrella up before you exit the door, as your umbrella may not fit. And if your umbrella does not fit, please think through things and just put it down. Don't try to figure out how to angle it to get it through the doors while it is still up, as this clogs up the entrance, holding formerly good-willed shoppers hostage on the inside and standing in the rain on the outside. I'm not saying I did this. Just a word to the wise.)

As I spend today recovering from yesterday's excursion, I hope the ones that have to spend their Saturday or Sunday (or both! Lord help you) shopping will remember these minor mishaps and enjoy their time out.

And if you get to do it together, even better.

No comments:

Post a Comment