September 15 - After using all my words in tonight’s post, I have none left for my intro. Sorry. Not really.

 Unfortunately, yesterday’s groove has disappeared, and this wasn’t a great day. Didn’t start off too badly - walked with Will to school, had a couple loads of laundry dry on the clothesline, did dishes (of course), and walked to 7Eleven with Howard because he can’t get bottled water out of the tap. 

Other than that, I couldn’t find the energy or desire to do anything but nap. But at least I’m not tired now, and it’s only 9:24. 

I found this on my bedroom wall this evening when we got back from 7Eleven, and kind of wish it was permanent. 

 

So, what is it?, you may ask. Well, it’s the silhouette of the cacti in my window, at almost dusk, hence the dark colours. And yes, I do need a hobby. 

Anyway, I’m diving into the archives tonight with no apologies. It’s just been that kind of a day. 

We’re going way back to around 2010, back to the old days when we lived in Richmond and Zellers was still our go-to-shop. 

I miss Zellers - but I digress. 

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My better (?) half isn't all that fussy about shopping. A quick trip to the mall to pick up my knitting magazines takes a major effort on his part, and at Zellers he just wants to look for, and not look at. Therefore, our shopping is usually done under pressure, as in, 'Let's get the hell out of here, I have to use the washroom,' and most of the time I end up going home with something important left behind.

Things I have learned about shopping with a husband:

• If we need milk, go get milk. I don't need to examine the different tubs of  Philadelphia Cream Cheese and Becel on the way to the milk. No need to price-compare the butter if we don't need any. And buying a dozen tubs of yogurt because they are on sale doesn't really save us money if we don't eat them all before the expiry date, which happens to be at precisely four hours and ten minutes after we get home, which is why they are on sale in the first place. So just get the damn milk.
• Never stop in the aisles. If I see something I need, just slow down and grab it on the way. Stopping half way down the aisle to exclaim about the health benefits of Cheerios as opposed to Choco Crunch Marshmallow Sugar Blasts usually ends with a tall dark and scared stranger walking away quickly - and me realizing that once again, my husband has just walked on ignoring me. I am getting a reputation as The Crazy Lady Who Talks To Herself.
• If I'm going to forget anything,  I'll make sure it's on his List Of Things To Have, and not mine. If I forget my rice pudding, I can go back and get it if  I'm in desperate need. If I forget his Deep'n'Delicious Frozen Chocolate Cake, he'll just go to bed in a huff and  I"ll have a nice quiet evening to enjoy my rice pudding and Cheerios.

However, a trip to Canadian Tire changes all the above.  We can take the scenic route, all around the edges then in and out of each aisle before we end up at the proper department. which in today's case was just inside the entrance door. The driver's side wiper blade broke on a sunny day - go figure- so it was important to replace it today, as the rain clouds were rolling in. I don't know why it's more important to select the 'best' wiper than, for example, the best spaghetti sauce, but I won't go into that here.  So, to the checkout, then to the parking lot, so Hubby could replace the blade in case we got caught in a deluge on the way home.

After an hour passed, the new blade was proving a bit too much for him to install. I was getting a bit concerned as I watched him standing on his little wooden box so the could reach over the hood of the Dodge Ram, trying so hard to push that stupid thing onto the truck wiper thing, and seeing the veins in his neck and forehead pop out with the pressure. So he decided it's the wrong one we ....he....bought, so we trudged back in to change it for a different one. However, the kid behind the counter tapped his computer and concluded that the one we bought was indeed the correct one, and offered the service of a Canadian Tire mechanic to do the honour. This guy couldn't fit the pieces together either,  and concluded that the wiper was faulty, so I got the pleasure of following him through the service bay back to the store itself, getting another blade, and going through the exchange protocol. Finally, after they both figured out that the reason the blade wouldn't go on the whatever you call it, was because there were three different clips in the box...just in case the one that was on the wiper didn't fit. Hey, you guys who don't want to read instructions or open little plastic packs of stuff in the wiper blade box -be you shipwright or mechanic - I'm not surprised you don't want to read the list of ingredients on the can of tomato soup you're planning to eat for lunch.

Well, tomorrow another adventure awaits. It seems that before I go to work, we're going shopping for seeds. Oooooh, I love garden stores! Maybe I'll check out the herbs..the basket fillers...and the garden decor. If you're looking for Howard, though, you'll be sure to find him in front of the seed display, contemplating carrots, rutabaga and pumpkins.