Last night, Mr. Apron had to go to rehearsal for a quickie.  I’d just woken up from a 2 hour nap, and I felt as awake as I had all day long.  He said he needed to go to the drug store after rehearsal for deodorant, so I volunteered to do the deed while he was at rehearsal, so we could spend more time together.  Aren’t we just nauseating? 

I figured on heading to Bed Bed & Beyond, since ours recently remodeled and put in a decently sized pharmacy, where I am certain they stock Mr. Apron’s deodorant.  Because there’s nothing like hitting store after store in a cold January night while still recovering from a stomach virus.  Yum.  I figured I’d also buy the dog’s glucosamine.  Finley’s been slowing down a bit lately.  He’s shown flagging ability to jump up on our bed at night, resulting in the installation of a giant footstool to serve as a launching station/midway point between the floor and the bed.  He also sometimes groans a bit as he lies down, and has had more trouble getting his hind quarters up off the floor.  Yesterday he was skidding around on our wood floors like Bambi on ice.  I figured it was time to seek out the glucosamine. 

I’d put Mr. Apron’s sister (aka our personal Consumer Reports maven) to the task to research the most potent forms of the supplement, and all the other imformation one ostensibly needs to know about canine joint care.  She sent me a helpful text message, and sent Mr. Apron an insanely long e-mail, which I printed out and took to the store with me. 

I pulled into the parking lot at 7:22pm, and left ta 7:50pm, with only those two items in my shopping bag.  You must understand that when I go into Target for “one or two things” — even with a list — I walk out with my purse $70 lighter.  When I go to the grocery store for orange juice and eggs, I end up shopping for a week.  It’s not that I demonstrated such resolve, or put blinders on for fear of overspending; I just can’t seem to leave my money at that store.  Mr. Apron calls it Bed Bath & Beijing for the pervasively quality craftsmanship.  Try as I might, I can’t get excited about the As Seen On TV “Sham-WOW” or the contraption that turns your soda can into a bottle.  I can’t muster up much enthusiasm for their zillions of Keurig coffee “cartridges” or polyester beds in a bag.  And, for all the time I spent perusing the so-called Clearance section, I left with only my shopping list.  Oooh, a sham marked down from $14.99 to $9.99?  Thrill me.  A piece of silicone that fits onto the top of your olive oil bottle to make, um, some process easier?  Ecstatic rapture.  One curtain panel for $28.99?  Unabounding joy. 

I think I’m the only person who doesn’t get squishy in the panties about this store.  Everyone I know has registered there for their weddings.  Everyone I know furnished their dorm rooms with butterfly chairs and plastic “drawers” with “wood-look top”.  I fairly gag when I go in there.  Last night especially, the aroma of cinnamon-scented pinecones (Christmas clearance) was overpowering, and the selection of quality products, underwhelming.  “Heavy-duty” wooden hangers?  Riiight.  How long will those last with my wool coats of them?  “Premium” shoe racks already splintering in the store.  Melamine closet organizers just mocking me with their sheen of photolaminate.  I’m just not convinced. 

I guess I should be happy I find it such a wholly gratuitous store.  My wallet certainly should be happy I wasn’t able to leave more money behind.  If they can invent a product that keeps dog fur off the furniture and the floors, I’ll be first in line with my 15% off coupon.  Till then, you’ll find me, arms buried under a pile of things I need, at TJ Maxx.

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