|A trip to the mall|
By Jill Pertler
My husband is not a frequent shopper. He avoids the hobby. Abhor is a strong word, but I think it’s pretty close to how my husband regards the in-store experience. You can imagine my surprise when he initiated the task last Saturday. We were out of town, at a weekend sports tournament with one of our kids, hanging out in the hotel between games, when he stood up from his chair and uttered the five words I’ve never heard him say: “I’m going to the mall.”
I would have accompanied him, but someone had to supervise our kid. So I sent him — alone. Innocent and inexperienced. To the mall. Like a lamb to the slaughter.
I knew there was a reason for his trip. He needed leather gloves and we hadn’t been able to find a suitable pair thus far this year. I also knew when he returned there’d be a story. He didn’t disappoint.The good news: He found his leather gloves. The bad news: In order to purchase them,
|Tuesday, February 18, 2014 1:52 PM|