One afternoon during our visit to San Jose in April, the wife decided she wanted to take a drive down the 101 Freeway to Gilroy, where a huge outlet mall awaited her coming.
We've been there many times before, and it sounded like a good idea since I myself wanted to find some house shorts. The last bunch I bought was at an outlet strip at Lake Tahoe, many moons ago. Before that, I had several that I got at Champion in Las Vegas, and had worn until they were mere tatters.
It's hard to find regular cotton shorts these days. All you can find are the nylon ones that emulate the ones that basketball players wear. You know, parachutes.
Score! We found some at the Gilroy Champion store. The wife got some stuff and not wanting to be caught up the creek without a paddle again, I bought eight pairs of shorts that should last me for quite a while.
Now ... I'm a guy, so I don't go shopping. I go buying. The wife, however, is definitely not a guy, so she had to mosey on over to one of her favorite stores - Coldwater Creek. Oh lawdie, I knew what that meant. I was going to have to wait outside for her for who knows how long, sitting on the cement planter, then meandering around, to the car and back.
I was able to kill about 10 minutes in the Van Heusen store, but didn't find anything I wanted to buy. (See? When I shop, I'm unsuccessful. It's only when I go to buy that I find something. An omen, perhaps?)
Do you know how distressing it is to see women go in and come back out. Many women. But no wife. Well, to make a long story short, she came out an hour later with two bags of clothes. Despite my aching butt and back, I was so happy for her ... maybe I won't have to take her shopping for another year?
Yeah, right.
No comments:
Post a Comment