Shop till I Drop

NaNo Count - 7,222 words.

That's an additional 3,160 today. I love it! It's moving well, and I don't have to worry about anything right now other than words on the page. I get to follow the story as it unfolds and enjoy the hell out of it. Today, my MC finds out that his arrogance has led his men into a very dangerous situation that they are not prepared to handle. He has to swallow his pride and run for home or watch his men all die. Fun stuff to write!

Funny thing happened the other night (though the wife did not find it nearly as amusing as I did!) I left a pen in the pocket of one of my shirts and it got washed. It was all well and good until it hit the dryer, then the damn thing burst like Old Faithful, destroying all the clothes in the dryer and leaving a lovely mass of blue stains on the white enamel. (now, LUCKILY all the clothes in that load were mine. I shudder to imagine the hell I'd have faced if any of my wife's delicate frillies were in there!) The wife did only a minor freak, but was panicking over the damage to the drum of the dryer and worried if it would ever be usable again. So there I was, at midnight, on my knees with a srub pad and a bucket of hot water loaded with bleach scrubbing the inside of the dryer. Big fun for me!!!!! I just finished getting it spotless when the wife came downstairs -after searching the Internet- to tell me it would all come right out if we soaked some old rags in bleachy water and ran them through the dryer. (great timing, dear!) My knees and back would have loved that info some 20 miutes earlier!!!! Ah well, I post it here for the benefit of you my loyal readers (though I truly hope none of you are as stupid as I am, so you'll never need it!)

So, to finish off this story: I lost all my jeans, and two of my favorite shirts to the evil gods of India Ink. That means . . . (wait for it . . . !) . . . SHOPPING! (kill me now!) Men and women are not meant to shop together.

Not ever.

Not for any reason.

We went out last night to replace the damaged clothing and I thought the wife was going to have a stroke. I shop very simply: I go into my chosen store, look for my chosen brand of jeans . . . do they have it? No. Fine, let's go to another store. No, dear, I do NOT want to look around and see what else they have. Yes, I can see those pants are on sale . . . no, I don't want to try them on! Can we go now please?

So, off to the next store we go. Do they have what I'm looking for? No. Okay, they have the same brand in a different style - that's good enough for me. What, dear? Yes, I know the other store had this style too. No, I don't want to go back there to compare the prices. Yes, I could have bought these at the first store, but I thought this store wold have exactly what I wanted. No, I am not going to a third store. Two is my formal limit: if I go to more than that I may have to hurt some passing stranger . . . What, dear? Well, that's just rude! I didn't bring your family ancestry into this, now did I? I certainly didn't call you any vulgar anatomical terms . . . !

Get the picture? Let men shop the way we shop. We don't care what it costs, and don't care if it's "not exactly the right shade". It's close enough! I can fit my hairy white ass into 'em . . good enough!

To top it off, when I tried the jeans I bought on this morning, she didn't like the way they fit on me . . . so guess what we're doing tonight? (sigh.)

Hey, maybe the world will come to a fiery end before we head to the mall! Maybe this is my lucky day and the Apocalypse is going to occur just after work tonight. Man, that would be so cool! Anything would be better than having to shop!

Again.

(someone pleeeeasss save me!)

Later!