Monday, August 23, 2010

In which I exaggerate a little (so what else is new?)

My dad is really generous. In the "I'm going to take you to the store and let you pick out anything you want today because I like you" kind of way. You can call me spoiled if you want. It's just a benefit of your love language being gifts and your parents knowing what said love language is.

Anyway, he told me I could go pick out one thing at any store I wanted today. I had a $200 limit. I decided on Fry's. It's like a heavy-on-the-electronics Target (minus the towels and curtains and clothes and such), so I figured it would be fun for everybody (my dad and Jack included) and it wouldn't be hard to pick something out.

I think it's a sign of my age and marital status that I went straight to the kitchen and cleaning supplies. I had been wanting a bigger, more professional-grade food processor because it has recently become my life's goal to make the perfect batch of hummus. And it's all about the texture, and it's just really hard to get it right without a really good food processor.

I know. I am terribly lame.

But then, on the next aisle over, was this steam mop. It vacuumed AND steamed hard floors, and it has pretty much been on my mind since Ellyn started ranting and raving about how great hers was. This woman drank the steam mop koolaid, and I was really starting to think I couldn't survive without it. So I did what I always do when I can't decide something on my own: I asked the internet.

And to be honest? The internet was not so helpful. Amusing, yes. Helpful, no. I ended up with a 4-4 tie right away, so I finally just decided on the steam mop (after a phone call to Ellyn to find out which kind she had). I already had a food processor, after all, and even though I always, always wished it was bigger, it worked and I could make things in smaller batches until I could afford a new one. A steam mop? I didn't have at all.

And to think I had considered going to the Coach outlet instead of Fry's.

Anyway, after all that painful, painful deliberation, I asked the worker bee guy if they had any more in the back, since there were no boxes near the display. He came back and said that no, there were not, and that they would sell us the floor model for no discount and they didn't have the box or the instruction manual. Um, no thanks worker bee guy. I think we'll go someplace else.

So we went down the street to Home Depot, but they didn't have the model we wanted. So we went to Conn's. No luck. Then Sears. Nope. Bed Bath and Beyond. Nothing. By this time my mom was screeching to a stop in front of each of the stores and screaming "MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE!!" as Jack and I jumped out of the car, doing dramatic somersaults through the front door and knocking people out of the way as we ran through the store toward the steam mop aisle, nun chucks in hand lest anyone try to attack us and take away our mop. I have a feeling we'd be really good at The Amazing Race.

Finally, we pulled up to Target. I hopped out of my car by myself this time (Jack is old, you know, and he can only handle so much stress on his rickety joints and weak heart), and discovered in delight that they did in fact  have the model of steam mop Fry's had, AND there was one left on the shelf. I snatched it up and held it close to my chest, suspiciously eying a little old lady as she sauntered past. I dialed Jack on my cell.

"THE SHARK IS IN THE WATER!" I announced, when he answered. "I REPEAT! THE SHARK IS IN THE WATER!"*

My posse burst through the doors like a SWAT unit, credit cards in hand, and escorted the illusive steam mop to the register. I fought off a few more suspects as the cashier rung us up, and by the time we left I had at least 30 or 40 attackers flat on the floor. But we had done it. We had secured the steam mop.

I know. Most of this story was a lie.

But I picked a steam mop over everything else I could have chosen today.

And there's really no other way of making that seem cool.

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*Man, I really wish I had thought to actually use that phrase when I called him.
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