First stop, Home Goods. I had a very bad experience unpacking my Christmas ornaments. Many of them were covered in mold from the wet summer we had (I'm buying ornament storage boxes next stop!) and it made me sad. I only use chile pepper and cow ornaments that I have collected over the last 20 years, so many of the chile pepper ornaments just fell apart. The cow ornaments were made of wood and I could wash. Also, one of my favorite glass Christmas trees broke. I'm on a replacement trip.
Back to Home Goods. They should have some Christmas goodies for me. I get HRH out of the car and ready her for the store. Now, if you don't know Home Goods, right at the front of the store is the crystal section. Followed closely by breakables and seasonal breakables. Then about 5 minutes later you come to sheets and towels.
Not a problem. It's cyber Monday. Everyone is ordering online. HRH and I glide into the store and as I lean down to pick up a basket I hear...
Oh. My. God. HRH perks up her ears. The squeaking gets more excited and HRH gets more interested we are smack in the front of the store. IN CRYSTAL. SQUEAK. SQUEAKY SQUEAK SQUEAK! Small lurch by HRH over to the left in direction of manic squeaking. Just the faintest sound of nails on linoleum as she scrabbles for purchase to get to the wondrous toy WHICH IS STILL SQUEAKING.
I'm thinking, "Where are the freaking towels?!" I don't need towels, but they are soft and unbreakable and there are about 5 aisles between us and 50/50 cotton safety. "Berekeley, forward."
She glances left, but walks forward. Good girl. We go forward. She still makes several glances to the left. Yep. That manic squeaker is still at it. Why doesn't someone kill him? Or at least tap him on the shoulder and say, "You are the most annoying person in the world!"
Finally, ensconced in cottony safety, with my blood pressure back out of the red, I can think about what I wanted to get. HRH is doing great. I realize though that my shopping mojo is completely out of whack and that the manic squeaker could be anywhere and could strike at any time. No place in the store is safe. Best to leave.
As we get to the front of the store, I glance over to the cashiers and there behind the register is a tall, thin 20 something man with his hand in his Home Goods apron pocket. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
HRH dragged me out of the store.