Deep Joy
I officially adore my local children's book shop. (I did already, but I want to praise them again.) I placed an order for an item for one of the girls for Christmas, and I went in today to pick it up. The list price was $44.95 for this item, but I was charged $38.97. I blinked but handed her about ten fewer dollars than I'd expected to hand over. Then I looked at the receipt and saw a note under my name (I've been in the computer for years); it's the name of the bank where I used to work, and the former owner banked with them. It's how I met the former owner, got into the Harry Potter books, and have shopped there whenever I was looking for something for the girls. I never noticed before, but I appear to have some kind of VIP discount. w00t! It's a local, non-chain bookshop, too, so I always feel a bit smug that I don't spend my money at Amazon or one of those huge places.
Wrapping presents now. Pitiful, how little I have to give, but that's the way it is.
Wrapping presents now. Pitiful, how little I have to give, but that's the way it is.