You may remember the unfortunate incident of almost a year ago wherein I was accidentally lei’d at Wal Mart. (Great apologies for the undoubtedly improper use of the apostrophe there).
Well? That is nothing compared to the date I had with McH tonight. We bought dog food at the Pet Store, went to a fairly decent Chinese Buffet, and then headed to the regional Mega Mart (not Wal Mart) to do the weekly grocery shopping. And? Before we left the store?
We had a Quickie in our shopping cart.
Oh yes, we did.
It started innocently enough, as these things generally do. We were feeling up produce, making immature innuendos about the Argentine President extolling the virtues of pork and the large loins in our cart, and generally enjoying our evening out together (even though grocery shopping makes for a lame date night).
The next thing I knew, we were in the cleaning products aisle and I finally remembered that we desperately need a new dustpan. Don’t get me wrong, I remember it on a daily basis, usually two or three times a day, when I am sweeping up mounds of dog fur and kidlet detritus and it invariably winds up swooshing its way under my dustpan rather than into it. So you’d think I would remember this when I am at the store, but I don’t. For whatever reason, I don’t.
But tonight was different. With my hot husband at my side, I saw the dustpans and my eyes and brain lit up.
“We need a dustpan!” I exclaimed as I veered toward them and reached out to grab one.
“No,” I heard from behind me, “we aren’t getting that dustpan.”
Dumbfounded, I turned to ask why, and our eyes locked and he smiled that (dare I say it?) dazzling smile, and said with a twinkle in his eye, “Look at it again.”
And I looked, and I saw it, both on the sticky label that would eventually be peeled off by the purchaser and embossed eternally in the plastic handle, the brand name of the dustpan: LibMan.
That husband of mine, he does make me laugh.
So I told him after we finished the grocery shopping, we could go over to the other side of the store where there is a larger cleaning section with a greater array of brooms, mops and dustpans.
True to my word we went, and there was, indeed, a wider selection of dustpans. But, alas, there were only two brands and one of them was LibMan. What to do, what to do?
So we stood there, the hot husband and I, weighing the pros and cons of the various dust/dirt/hair receptacles. We considered size and shape and color, and when all was said and done we had a Quickie in our cart. It was the perfect size. It was cheap. It was just made to get dirty in my kitchen. Unfortunately, though, it is blue.
My kitchen and my broom are both red, so I was hoping to find another red dustpan. Most of the LibMans, interestingly enough, were red, but they were either too large or too small. Whereas the Quickie? (oh yes) Was just right.
And George . . .