We went out today on a quest to exchange some ill-fitting clothing. Turns out the pants and one of the shirts I got him for Valentine's Day were a wee bit snug, though he did like them, so he wanted to get them in larger sizes. I, on the other had, had somehow held onto a too-small outfit I received as a Christmas present; the nearest Sears is about fifteen minutes away, and I just never worked up the initiative to make the trek. Today was decided to be the day for clothes swapping, so we packed up our outfits and headed off to the stores.

Eric's shopping was easily done; he did have to settle for another color of trousers, but we were in and out of the store in less than half an hour. The sales staff was friendly and courteous in helping us get the job done quickly. At Sears, however, we were playing a whole new ballgame; the first two counters I went to were unmanned, and the sixteen-year-old maintaining the third was alone in facing a line of eight harried women with carts piled high. To her credit, she handled the work as quickly as possible, until another girl arrived to "help," and the two of them entered into a lively conversation about the lovely clothes sold by a competing store.

I finally received gift card, containing $27.90 worth of store credit. Now, to track down some lovely clothing of my own ...

Well, I'd settle for suitable clothing...

Wearable, and in something other than pea green?

When it became apparent that I wasn't going to be walking out of the store with any sort of garment (though I was sorely tempted by a shimmering, strapless magenta sheath dress with a feathered décolletage), we headed to housewares.

"How about a blender?"
"We have one. A juicer?"
"Too expensive. Some hideous place settings?"
"We never entertain. Ooh, a Foreman Grill!"
"Hmmmm...maybe another time."

I suggested new bedroom pillows, to end the eternal fight for the "good pillow," but Eric was hearing none of it; I think he secretly enjoys ripping the pillow out from beneath my sleeping head. He suggested a Playstation game, but they turned out to be far overpriced. Camera film? Stereo headphones? A telephone headset? Nothing was striking our fancy.

"How about some jewelry?" We headed over to the jewelry counter, gazing in at some of the tackiest pieces of ornamentation I've ever seen in my life. I considered a faux-marble elephant pendant, and then I mulled over a Year 2000 cubic zirconium necklace. Then I saw the prices on these items and almost swallowed my tongue. Eric says, "These are actually nice pieces of jewelry!"

"You're scaring me, sweetheart."
"You know what I mean."

My head was hurting, and my feet were aching. I tossed the gift card to Eric. "Here, just take it and buy me something. If you buy it, it will be a gift, and I'll enjoy it for that reason alone. If I buy it, then I'll have to keep searching until I find something that I actually like." He took it and headed off to the hardware section. I followed him and found him going through the selection of shop vacuums. Knowing that he wouldn't actually buy one, I seated myself on a riding mower to wait it out. When he came out empty-handed, we traveled to the sports section and tossed a softball back and forth. (My husband throws like a girl, and I never knew it until today.)

"Want to buy a tent?"
"For what?"
"Camping. They're on sale."
"We'd need sleeping bags."
"Here's a four-man tent with a locker space."
"Hmmmm..."

He lost interest as quickly as he developed it, and I'm glad; I've never before been camping, and after the whole "Blair Witch" thing, I think it will be a long time before I decide to try it out.

Up the escalator and down. I began to understand why all the salesclerks wore surly expressions; the escalator had speakers that loudly scolded all who rode it. "Please stay away from the sides of the escalator! Don't let your legs touch the step behind you! Parents, attend to your children! Kids, don't sit on the stairs! Face forward! Don't run or walk in the opposite direction in which the escalator is moving!" Incessantly, the recording ran on. I impulsively suggested to Eric that we use the money to buy the escalator's silence; he agreed with me that the clerks would probably accept in a heartbeat.

"Honey, I'm tired."
"Me, too. Let's just go grab a pot or a pan."
"Okay. I'm this close to buying $27.90 worth of batteries."

The pots were terrible. The pans were dismal. Sudden inspiration: we need a new toaster oven!

"No, we don't."
"Yes, we do."
"No, we don't.
"Yes, we do. I'm afraid of ours; last time I used it, it caught fire."
"Okay, we need a new one."

So, with a minimum of damage (one of us broke a display case getting the oven out of the store, and it wasn't me), we returned home with our purchase. I'm exhausted, and dinner is ready. Good night, and pleasant dreams to all.