Send my husband to the store to buy me… you know… “girl stuff.”
I walked into Target today to get some face wash. I can never remember which aisle it’s on, so I have to walk slowly past every ailse, pausing ever so slightly in order to determine if I am getting close.
As I mosied down, I came to “the aisle” and standing there, all by his lonesome, was a man. Two boxes in either hand. One pink. One purple. He was like reading a book, or a comic strip.
“Wings? No wings?”
“Wiiings? Nooo wings?”
I almost turned to ask if he needed help. He looked confused and scared. If he was there it was undoubtedly because of a dire need in which case his failure to deliver the correct “material” would have cost him something priceless.
Although, in my opinion, the fact that he was where he was already meant that he had traded in his “man-card.”
I should have told him to pick up Midol and chocolate too.