Furniture shopping
Shopping is hell.
When Darling Wifey takes me clothes shopping, The Plan comes into effect. First, I feign sleepiness. Then I dive into McDonald’s and buy their largest size coffee to carry round with me. At every ladies’ clothes shop, security refuses to let me in because I have a drink.
“I’m sorry. Just leave me here with the children – we’ll be okay. We’ll wait.”
But furniture stores have planned ahead, and they ambush me.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, sir?”
I hate them.
Then we have to look at 350 types of suite for the new house. That’s 350 in each shop. Some we need to sit on, because we need to know if they are comfy, whilst others don’t need sitting on because they look right, and sitting on them will ruin the effect. (???????) Then we have to look at swatches and imagine what this suite will look like in the style of that suite, but with this material (whilst Darling Wifey holds up a six-inch square of grubby material.)
And then, when we get home, we have to discuss them all in analytical detail.
**But furniture stores have planned ahead, and they ambush me.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, sir?”
I hate them.**
Ah… well, every system is doomed to it’s failures.
Might I suggest something sticky, such as a box of taffy or some really chewy bubble gum? Can’t see the furniture shops welcoming that, can you? 
Seems like quite the Slytherin-esque thing to do, if you ask me.
Jo (who’s hoping Imogen won’t shoot her when she reads this post)
Comment by Jo — October 30, 2003 @ 1:35 pm
Thick and dribbly milkshakes in one hand, chocolate covered children in the others ought to nip the shopping trip in the bud.
Comment by Ancarett — October 30, 2003 @ 10:16 pm