Please Mr. Postman

I hate to shop. Somehow I didn't get the shopping gene many women seem to have. I'm not being sexist, it's just that most of my friends love to shop. I'd rather get a sharp stick in the eye.

Nothing fits; I'm too tall. I have long arms and long legs. Waists are always in the wrong place, sleeves are too short, and pants are never long enough unless I buy from a specialty store (read $$$$). Plus I hate trying things on in those little dressing rooms with those freaky lights.

It took me years to wear capris. Yeah, I know, I'm supposed to be the one who can wear that style, but I've been struggling my whole life to find pants long enough, and now you want me to wear them short on purpose?! I don't think so.

I was given a $50 gift card to a local mall back in June. Last week I finally got there and tried to use it. I couldn't find any clothes. Found some bags I liked but I wasn't in the mood to pay the additional $60 they would have cost over the value of the gift card. I ended up in Bath and Body Works buying soaps and lotions to add to the stash I already have.

Online shopping, however, is another story. I can sit here for hours and click away through the various online stores and catalogs that have clothes that DO fit me. All it takes is money or rather a credit card. I recently spent an evening here catching up on some of the things I need. I did some serious damage to the credit card. Within a day or two the boxes began to arrive. And arrive. And arrive.

Paul once said that a UPS truck cannot drive by our house without stopping. We happened to be standing in the driveway when he made the comment. A Big Brown truck drove by just as we were having this discussion. I immediately pointed and said...."no suh, there's goes one now!" The words were barely out of my mouth when the truck stopped, backed up, and pulled into our drive and the driver jumped out and put a box in my hands.

Maybe they should assign me my own truck and driver.


Photos courtesy of Google Images.