Is That Thing On?

Last Saturday, Pete took the day off of work so that I could travel to Duluth for a little me time. Granted, it was for a last kiss to a dear, dear friend at her wake, but hey--kidless is kidless, right??

On the drive back, I had a lot of time to think about how lucky I was that Pete can handle two kids all day by himself without whining or complaining, and how he was probably going mental right there on the spot with all the taking of Thing Two off the dining room table and the explaining to Thing One why he cannot take the hair dryer into the bathtub for water play. I thought about how he is not used to spending the whole day with two kids, how frazzled his nerves must be, and how he would sure appreciate a break when I waltzed into the door all fresh-faced and armed with silly kid-rhymes to save the day.

So I stopped at the outlet mall.

My first 45 minutes in The Gap were spent fielding generous offers from perky headsetted twenty-somethings to "start a room for me," "help me find a top for that," or "help me find something I like". Satiated with a pair of black fleece bottoms, a long-sleeved crew, and a pair of funky tights for Thing Two, I entered the black hole of the cashier's area. As I worked my way through the two hundred-foot roped-off maze intended to safely and methodically funnel all of the shoppers (me) to the next available cashier, I passed a headset attached to a gum-chewing face and a clipboard. The gum bobbed up and down in thin air as the headset stared blankly at me and spoke, "Um, Lindsay, could you hop up on a register for me real quick please?" I think of those creepy Stepford Wives and another headset materializes before me, the only difference being the color of the layering cami she was wearing. Lindsay, I presume.

It started benignly enough. "Did you find everything you needed?" Lindsay asked the register.

"Yup. Aren't these the cutest little tights?"

And then it happened. Lindsay spoke the word which I was to quickly learn she had spent her late teens/early twenties perfecting. She wrapped those thin lips around it and tilted her head so that the word floated my way almost effortlessly.

"Whaaayet?"

"Oh these tights are just so cute," I labored, already, unfairly, annoyed with Lindsay.

Then silence as Lindsay did her thang with the tags and the register.

But I couldn't stand it. Partly to make small-talk and partly because I hadn't peed in about 2 hours, which was about an hour and 50 minutes longer than is normally comfortable for me, I asked if there was a bathroom in the store.

"Whaaayet?"

"A bathroom," I said a little more quietly.

I saw a spark from the top of Lindsay's headset.

"In the store? A bathroom?" I asked.

"Oh!! No, no bathroom in the store." She shot a we got a live one look at the gum-chewing headset and went about ringing me up.

Lest she forget about me, I piped up again.

"You have the prettiest red hair."

"Whaaayet?"

Am I on freakin' Candid Camera?

"Nevermind," I mutter. She's giving me the look that I got from fat Lance Fareman in the first grade, when I was making those noises with my mouth closed, thinking no one could hear me. Yup. She thinks I'm weird.

"I think your hair is so pretty. You probably get that all the time."

"Oh, huyeah, I kinda do."

Almost done. Just one more thing from Lindsay.

"Would you like to save $15 off your Gap purchase today by opening a Gap credit account?"

"What?"

"Would you like to save $15 off your Gap purchase by opening a Gap credit account?"

"Oh, no thanks."

"Have a great day and thanks for shopping at Gap," Lindsay twitched.

"What?"