Zona

So my wife gives me the sweet eye and before I know it I'm standing in the crafts superstore known as Michael's. I HATE the smell of popouri. (sp) Specially when it seems to be shoved up my nose but I put up with it because she puts up with me.

I'm kinda uncomfortable in Michael's because the whole time I feel eyes on me and all these women are oogling me. They think that since I'm in Michael's I'm the sensitive type they're looking for and since my wedding band has shrunk and I'm not wearing it it's "game on" for these women.

It got to the point where I couldn't even bend over to check out the lower shelves without feeling like a piece of meat. So I thought we were out when my wife spied these aborable one dollar each ceramic individual bread molds that she could bake banana bread in and then give away as gifts. We searched the pile until she had ten that she liked and then finally off to the cashier.

I ran screaming to the car.

I was so frazzled that I drove by the golf shop without noticing.