Retail therapy – why do they call it that? Why not call it what it is? A purse lobotomy. I hate shopping. I’ve hated it ever since our honeymoon in 1985. We went to Cape Town in winter and there wasn’t much else to do, once we’d been to the Castle and up Table Mountain. The beaches were too cold to visit, though we did accidentally stumble upon a shrivelled little fellow on a nudist beach. That was fun.
I’m a little grumpy because yesterday I had my fortnightly trek into Stockport to pay bills. I usually go in on a Thursday but went Friday instead: it was awful. Christmas season is horribly upon us. Add to that a cupboard bare of anything except a stale packet of pretzels and three bags of sugar, and I had to go grocery shopping last night. I hate shopping; and I hate shopping twice in one day squared.
I’m aching all over from walking and pushing shopping trolleys. I’m undernourished because I didn’t eat properly with being in and out. And I’m hung over with guilt for accidentally abusing my dog.
- Post Traumatic Stressed Dog
As I left the house yesterday, I accidentally shut him into the kitchen. Not a big deal for most dogs, but ours was kept locked up for about twenty hours a day in a freezing-in-winter- boiling-in-summer conservatory for the first eight months of his life, by his previous owners. As a result, he gets terribly distressed if he’s locked in. We came back to find he had scratched paint off the door from trying to dig his way out; pooped, which he stopped doing indoors once he realised we meant him no harm; and vomited, which is another sign of his distress. We stuffed him full of treats and gave him a new toy that was supposed to be for Christmas. I have to say, we are the soppiest pair of dog owners I’ve known since my in-laws; but he was genuinely upset.
I have to stop feeling guilty because Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer, says they live in the now; and Toby doesn’t seem any the worse for his misadventure – at this moment in time he is stretched out on a chair, snoring away. Just like the Hub.
The Laughing Housewife 
These are days we hate — and a number of years ago we began doing our shopping two ways. Either a gift certificate or card or it comes from Amazon.com.
It works.
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