Well, maybe you don't. Or maybe to you it means something fun and happy. Like Spring time or Easter chicks or some crap.
In my house? It means Jason needs new pants.
So yesterday we trekked to one of my least favorite places on the planet. The Mall. Thankfully, Jason did not suggest we go to the nearby outlet stores. Because, really. We nearly get a divorce every time we go to an outlet store. For several reasons the majority of them being:
2) The way Jason drives
3) Jason's intolerance for traffic
Now keep in mind that I love my husband to the depths of my soul. He is a good, good man and I love him. He has numerous redeeming qualities including, but not limited to, the fact that his teeth are always brushed, he smells nice, and he does laundry. He makes me laugh every day and most of the time on purpose.
But I would rather stab myself in the neck than clothes shop with him.
If you are not familiar with me and my life and my spouse? You are probably wondering at this time what the big deal is. Because the vast majority of men I have ever met in my entire life purchase clothing as follows:
-Go to store
-Locate pants which will fit
-Get on with life
It is not so with my husband.
Yesterday my husband tried on 32 pairs of pants.
I'm not kidding.
Of those 32 pairs of pants he tried on? He deemed one worthy of purchase.
Reasons that the other 31 pairs were not acceptable might or might not have fallen into one of the following categories:
1) They didn't hang right
2) The crease was in a weird place
3) The cuffs didn't fold at the bottom symmetrically
4) The color was a bit "off"
5) Something just wasn't right about them
6) The universe didn't turn at exactly the correct moment
8) The pleat didn't exactly match on both sides
9) Your mom
10) Something just didn't feel right about them emotionally
When he finally found the one pair (and let me just tell you, I told him REPEATEDLY how amazingly awesome he looked in them, just to seal the deal) that he was willing to purchase and we made our way up to the counter to buy them he had trouble using the credit card machine. We use our debit cards for everything and they have a Visa logo so we are usually presented with the option of putting in our pin number or signing our name. We always sign, if given the option, because we (ahem) are paranoid and don't want to use our pin number in public.
The machine was a bit wonky and I was standing with him saying, "Okay, now hit cancel. No wait...no, just hit cancel. Okay, that should work."
The shopkeeper smirked and said, "Women! They love to shop don't they? They know all about the credit cards!"
I looked at him and rolled my eyes so deeply back in my head I almost hurt.
If only he knew.
And don't even get me started about the new bathrug we bought. Please.