Today's Tom Sawyer and a Firt Full of Dollars

I hate shopping.

Hate may seem a strong reaction to shopping, but it's true. I go in, I get my shit.  Pay for said shit. Then leave.

Easy peasy.

Shopping with Norton is easy.  I don't shop with Norton.  Norton shops with me.  If he whines I send him back to the truck.

Shopping with Margaret is painful.

If shopping was an eating disorder it would be bulimia.  She goes in.  Buys whatever she wants.  Takes it all home, tries it on.  Suffers from buyer's remorse, and then brings back most of what she bought.  Not all of it of course ... she has to "eat" after all.

So the other day we're all in the van tootling around and Margaret yells "Stop the car! Turn around."

First it should be noted that while I am not a nervous driver by nature, someone unexpectedly yelling while I'm driving tends to make me jump out of my skin.

"What the hell Margaret, you made me soil myself.  What's the deal?"

"Turn around John, there's a sale at Ellens."

My first reaction was shit.  Followed by my second reaction which was a twin to the first.  I didn't slow down and kept moving.

Before I go on I will state for the record Margaret doesn't normally hit me.  But when she does she has an uncanny ability to find that space on my shoulder where the muscle and bone connect.

To cut down on the amount of words I have to type and to try to get to the point of this particular post let's fast forward a bit.

• I turn around
• I park the car
• I promise not to complain
• I make Norton promise not to complain
• We go into the store

Margaret is in heaven, and Norton and I do that aimless wander routine men do when they're stuck in a women's clothing store. Norton is following me around like a puppy. We pass a mannequin that isn't dressed ... I'd normally say it was naked, but I'm not sure that's a true statement. It doesn't have arms, or a head.  It's just a torso.  Norton stops, "Hey John.  How come this one has nipples?"

I look. Sure enough, it has poky bits ... I said I didn't know, and could we keep moving.  He then stopped at a large display of underpants.  Norton is enthralled. "Norton, I'll give you a hundred dollars if you put that one on your head and walk over to Margaret and ask her if it fits."

"Really?" He tilted his head sideways a little trying to process what was happening. "A hundred bucks?  No.  Really?  You're kidding right?"

I walk away and I can hear him muttering.

A couple minutes later I catch up to Margaret (I'd done my circle around the store) and she's there with Norton.  "John, you know what Norton just did?"

I got a little sinking feeling in my gut.  I look at Norton and his face is a little flushed.

"He comes up to me with a thong on his head like a balaclava and asks me if it fits."

Norton starts to giggle. The feeling in my gut intensifies as I realize I am about to be out a hundred bucks.

It wasn't until we were on our way home that Margaret asked me why Norton would ask her to say that.

My tummy suddenly felt better.

"What do you mean?" I can see Norton squirm in the mirror.

"He said he'd give me five bucks if I said he'd put panties on his head." Why would he do that John?"

I could see Norton shrug.  It was worth an effort his eyes said.

All I  could think was I'm glad I didn't ask him to paint the fence.