We were downtown for a doctor’s appointment this morning, so I hopped over the river to South Carolina to pick up few Christmas bargains at the Shop Crammed with Cheap Stuff.
And crammed it was. For the holidays the main aisles – the only aisles that are passable on a good day – were crammed with folding tables crammed with festive sweaters, electric travel mugs, fondue pots, and the like. My visit underscored my deeply held belief that there isn’t a merchandiser around who has actually pushed a stroller – single, double, umbrella, or jogger – through a store. Truly it’s hard to believe the fire marshals aren’t all over this place.
But cheap it was too! Cute shirts - $5.00! Cute photo coasters - $5.00! Baby shoes - $5.00! I loaded up.
As the trip wore on, I could tell the blood sugars were falling fast. I attempted to navigate through the baby section – crammed to the fourth power – and John began a rapid meltdown. He took off his shoe and then Ainsley’s shoe and then her sock. I confiscated shoes and sock as I weaved in and out of racks. What the cart didn’t knock over, John managed to grab. The blood sugar continued to plummet, and the blood pressure began to rise. I headed for the checkout counter.
Not quickly, of course, because I could scarcely move. I was stuck behind a woman whose cart was stuck between racks. Behind me was a clerk pushing an enormous rack crammed with more cheap stuff.
I was checked out and heading for the door when I noticed John was missing his other shoe. Cheap only goes so far when you have to replace a pair of shoes. Back into the fray we went in search of the shoe.
Hangers were snapping. Parkas and jeans were cascading. My patience was waning. Still no shoe.
“John,” I said in exasperation, “Where is your shoe?”
“Dere it is!” he said, pointing beneath a rack of house coats.
And dere it was.