I LOVE to work in my yard. There is nothing better than mowing, edging and blowing. It’s instant gratification.
For a man, if your grass looks good, YOU feel good.
When my yard is weedy and full of brown patches, my whole karma is off. It’s like having a bad haircut or a huge zit on your forehead.
Lisa DID NOT like yard work. In fact, I’m not sure she ever went in our yard. She pretty much went from the house to the car to the mall.
Today after a quick mow (no time for edging or blowing), I tackled Stephanie’s seasonal clothes change. After four hours of trying on, folding and unfolding, hanging and unhanging, I decided we had not been tortured enough so we headed to Crabtree Valley Mall to begin our spring buying extravaganza.
Everyone in Wake and the surrounding counties was at Crabtree late this afternoon. Why? The only people I thought would be there on a spring weekend day with NCAA basketball on were widowed fathers who went to NC State and who are going to be out-of-town four weekends in a row in April.
There must be a TON of us.
Today we purchased: 1 pair of shoes, 5 bathing suits, 6 tops, 6 shorts, 2 pair of PJ’s, 3 sweaters, 1 skirt, a pair of crop jeans and a beer (that was the only thing I got). And I spent hundreds of dollars.
I worked hard to be a good sport although I was a bit offended when the sales clerk at the Old Navy offered me the handicapped dressing room because it could “handle larger crowds”.
I was extremely annoyed when I finally chased two women down in the parking lot to get their space and then they just sat in the car. What were they doing in there? Planning the Winter Olympics? If you come out of the store and there are limited parking places and a car follows you to your space and turns on the blinker, proper etiquette is to quickly get in your car and get the heck out of the space! Not these women. They slowly put their bags in the trunk (who does that?) and slowly got in the car. And then sat there. Geeze. My hand motions and horn blowing did nothing to rouse them. Someone else is going to have to teach my children patience.
I was annoyed at my youngest two children’s new-found modestness in the dressing room. We’ve all seen them naked – multiple times! Sometimes they prance around the house in a towel or less. They do not have to get totally re-dressed when I crack the door six inches to slip out to get another size garment. There are not 5th grade boys stationed at the door of the handicapped dressing room hoping to get a peek!
I was annoyed when my nose started running at Hollister – a store that has life-sized pictures of naked teens and a plume of perfume floating through the air. I was also annoyed that my 13-year-old was walking around in public with a naked boy onher Hollister gift bag.
I was annoyed trying to figure out how to try on a two piece bathing suit when the top and bottom were connected with plastic thread. It was impossible. We had to try the top on and then the bottom. And what was that huge swath of tape in the crotch? Do you take it out before you swim? My kids said it was uncomfortable.
I was also annoyed when I left Old Navy, reached for my keys and realized I had a $25 gift card I had forgotten to use. I was equally frustrated when four hours later I arrived home and realized I also had a $25 Target gift card I had forgotten to use.
I was pleased when Michelle fell in love with a bathing suit that was twice as expensive as another one two hangers down – and convincingly said, “I like the other one just as well, there’s no need to spend that much more money for one that looks basically the same (it didn’t, but how sweet).”
I was pleased when after I bought her a sweater, DJ said “Thanks Dad!” – unprompted.
I was pleased that Stephanie didn’t smack me. After trying on literally more than 100 articles of clothing this morning, she looked at me like I had lost my mind when I asked if she wanted to try on another pair of shorts in the last store. However, she simply said, “I just don’t think I can dad.”
I was very pleased when we got to dinner and the waiter brought me a Yuengling.
Here’s to my wife who spared me from this for 13 years!