My dear husband (no, I do not use text speak like “dh” or “btw” because the sixth grade writing teacher in me just won’t allow it) surprised me this morning with Waffle House and then a trip to Canton.
I think I died and went to heaven (he finished it off by a side trip (it’s almost mandatory these days) to Buc-ees on the way home. He got a cat-nap in the car while I dream shopped.
Let’s get real here for a minute. I shop the “old” section of Canton. You know, the good stuff (junk). I can not afford the “barn” price tags they offer their items to flaunt. It is always fun to “window shop”, but like Buc-ees, I can not afford to purchase more than my energy drink and a snack. Heck, they even make 20lbs of ice exciting making me question my faithful ice maker’s intentions. I mean, who doesn’t have to go pee suddenly upon see the beave himself?! That’s the original reason for stopping, isn’t it?