Big spender, big loser

This morning I had to run a bunch of errands. I mapped out my plan: hit Ocean State Job Lot after dropping the boys off at school; get to Barnes & Noble shortly after they opened at 9:00; then off to the mall, which opened at 10:00, to finally do some Christmas returns and to pick up a few things for Earl's birthday, which is tomorrow. All this, and I had to get back to Milton to pick up Timmy from school at 11:00. I was on a mission.

Things started out well enough. I found the things I needed at Ocean State Job Lot (tagline: Home of Adventure Shopping) and even a couple of things that weren't on my list and I didn't realize I needed until I saw them there. All was going well and according to schedule -- it was only a little after 9:00 by the time I checked out -- until the cashier rang up the total sale, which came to $87 million.

Adventure shopping, indeed.

One of the items had scanned incorrectly. With the $4+ million in sales tax, the total came to more than $87 million, actually. The manager came over, looked at the computer screen, then asked me, straight-faced, if I'd be using my credit card. I told him I'd have to call and ask for a small credit increase.

They had to void the sale and re-ring it (a much more reasonable $53) and, despite the delay, it was only 9:20. Plenty of time to stop at the bookstore to pick up gifts for Earl and his mom, whose birthday is next weekend, and get to the mall when it opened at 10:00.

Well.

The big bookstore didn't have the book I wanted for Earl, nor did it have the CDs for Judy. They offered to order the book, but since his birthday is tomorrow, that wasn't really an option. Ah, well, I thought, maybe there's still a little bookstore in the mall and I can pick one up there. So off I went.

For those readers who don't know me in real life, a little background: I hate the mall. Any mall, and South Shore Plaza in particular. I think it's from bad feelings left over from the early 90s when smoking was still legal in many places of business, the Plaza among them (this was when it resembled a cave, before the remodeling several years ago.) The combined effect of limited parking, tons of people and cigarette smoke was enough to push me over the edge, and I've never lost that dread of setting foot inside the place. This is partly why I hadn't done my Christmas returns & exchanges until now, nearly three weeks after Christmas.

Back to the story: I made it to the Plaza with a few minutes to spare, so I returned a phone call while I waited for the doors to open. At 10:00 on the dot, my odyssey through the complicated world of returns at Sears began.

I had several items to return and exchange; some with receipts, some without. It all took much longer than I wanted it to, as these things usually do (another reason I'd kept putting it off.) In the end, I got done most of what I needed to do, but it took so long I could only stop at one other store to pick up something for Earl's birthday. Meanwhile, I was walking so fast through the mall while wearing my winter jacket that I was sweating by the time I made it back to the car, with only 1/3 of Earl's birthday presents bought, and 10 minutes to make it back to East Milton Square.

On the way, I called yet another bookstore, and was informed they didn't have this particular tome on the shelf but one was on its way and should arrive within 24-48 hours. Terrific. I decided to call Earl and tell him he would get the book, just not tomorrow. He said he had seen it at a South Station book kiosk, and I rather frostily informed him I was not taking Timmy on the train just to get to South Station and buy a book, even if it was for his birthday. Ah, love.

When I parked the car to pick up Timmy (across the street, since the drop-off loop was filled -- I think some parents must arrive at least 15 minutes before pick-up time to assure themselves of a prime curbside parking spot) I made the unpleasant discovery that I had lost one of my new gloves, which my in-laws gave me for Christmas. I've searched the van to no avail, and think it probably is getting kicked around the floor or drowning in the parking lot slush of South Shore Plaza. Another reason to hate the place.

Home again with Timmy, I decided after lunch to make Earl's birthday cake for tomorrow. He wanted chocolate, and I decided to take the easy way out with a mix. I got out the mixer and preheated the oven, and then discovered I had about half as much cooking oil as I needed. I peered into the cabinet and saw the extra-virgin olive oil. Hmmm. It would never work with a white cake, but Devil's food? What the heck. I filled up the measure, dumped it in, and popped the pans in the oven.

Now my house is fragrant with the heady aroma of chocolate and olives. Earl loves both, but I'm not sure how he feels about them in combination. I hope the frosting will camouflage the olive part of it. If it doesn't, I could always stick a candle in one of the fig newtons I bought at Ocean State Job Lot.

Happy birthday, darling. Your gift is on order. Here's your birthday newton.

What kind of a loser wife leaves her husband's birthday arrangements until the last minute? I do it every single year, and it's not like it's not important to me. Maybe it's just that it comes so close on the heels of Christmas, but for whatever reason, January 14th always sends me into a panic.

I suppose I have an extension on his birthday, as we're celebrating with friends on Saturday, and then with his parents on Sunday. Maybe I can put my hands on the book by the weekend. If not, well, then, I guess it's the thought that counts. Even if it tastes like olives.