Herself was feeling paticularly BLEAH today. After an appointment with the doc, she was decanted into a warm bed (and since the city was running at about 2ºC, or -5ºC counting the wind-chill factor, it was a bloody good trick to pull!) while your humble blogonaut went off to pursue errands in town.
I don’t normally suffer from the cold as long as I keep moving, so I wore a polar-fleece vest over a t-shirt and jeans. Imagine my surprise when sleet blew in sideways and hail about the size of peas started falling.
One of the things I had to do was to grab a couple of girly-type nighties for Herself’s upcoming trip to hospital. Seeing one of the big stores is closing and all stock is at 50% off, speed was of the essence. I had taken the Good Woman’s measurements down.
To help dispel any potential blokey embarrassment, I had noted Herself’s measurements in my PDA.
Somehow it’s still quite [grunt] MANLY [hrumph, chest-thump] if one whips out some Technology at the Girly Things counter.
There’s a mad rush on the counters like, well, like it was a clearance sale, but I manage to get some assistance from a staffer who can translate centimetres into the various size codes (yep, a couple of different ones) used by manufacturers. In hardly any time at all, I had The Pink One and The Blue One, ready to go, and the sale was being rung up, when…
“Gee, Ryno, they’ll look okay on you, but d’you reckon they’ll fit?”
Of all the times for acquaintances to be shopping right behind me… I’m doomed.
Guess I better get fitted up for my muu-muu now.
This, with a few lavender feathers as an accent, perhaps?
Entries (RSS)