Foiled Expectations
We are in the process of installing a fireplace insert which doesn't quite fit into the space it needs to fill. Having already unsuccessfully checked at our local building supply store for the materials we thought we'd use, I volunteered last night to make a trip to Home Depot. Strangely, the Heir Apparent bounced into the living room and announced he was coming with me. That's right, coming with me--shopping. I attempted to touch his forehead to see if he was feverish, and he shook me off.
So into town we went, and as soon as we got into the store, I noticed that all his enthusiasm and vigor immediately disappeared. I marked it down at first to the usual pre-teen rapid mood swings, but finally couldn't stand it, and asked if anything was wrong. After a muttered "No...arhmmm...hrrrr," he said, "You didn't say we were coming here."
"I most certainly DID," I responded indignantly.
"No you DIDN'T," was his equally-as-indignant reply.
"We're looking for building supplies, where else would we be going?"
"Grrr...arrrgh. I dunno..."
Stymied, I continued pushing the cart down the aisle, looking for fire bricks. Behind me, I heard him muttering to the universe, "It's NOT what she said..."
Slowly, a light dawned. Ever since we bought our house and ran afoul of Home Depot's amazingly byzantine and foul conduct towards their contract employees, we have made a point NOT to darken their doors unless we really, really can't find the stuff we need elsewhere (and we feel strongly enough about this that sometimes we're willing to wait on items and add them to our once-a-month trip 40 miles into the Tricities), and we also have a name for the company. A special name.
"Um. Did I...maybe...uh, did you hear me say I was going to go to the Evil Empire?"
"YES! That's what you said!"
(A pause)
"Oh. Soooo...what, you thought...there was gonna be, ronin? And orcs..."
"I DIDN'T KNOW," defensively, "But you said 'Evil Empire' so I thought..."
"...and maybe Dark Jedis?"
(pouting) "I dunno. But you DIDN'T say 'Home Depot.'"
Well. He's got me there.
So into town we went, and as soon as we got into the store, I noticed that all his enthusiasm and vigor immediately disappeared. I marked it down at first to the usual pre-teen rapid mood swings, but finally couldn't stand it, and asked if anything was wrong. After a muttered "No...arhmmm...hrrrr," he said, "You didn't say we were coming here."
"I most certainly DID," I responded indignantly.
"No you DIDN'T," was his equally-as-indignant reply.
"We're looking for building supplies, where else would we be going?"
"Grrr...arrrgh. I dunno..."
Stymied, I continued pushing the cart down the aisle, looking for fire bricks. Behind me, I heard him muttering to the universe, "It's NOT what she said..."
Slowly, a light dawned. Ever since we bought our house and ran afoul of Home Depot's amazingly byzantine and foul conduct towards their contract employees, we have made a point NOT to darken their doors unless we really, really can't find the stuff we need elsewhere (and we feel strongly enough about this that sometimes we're willing to wait on items and add them to our once-a-month trip 40 miles into the Tricities), and we also have a name for the company. A special name.
"Um. Did I...maybe...uh, did you hear me say I was going to go to the Evil Empire?"
"YES! That's what you said!"
(A pause)
"Oh. Soooo...what, you thought...there was gonna be, ronin? And orcs..."
"I DIDN'T KNOW," defensively, "But you said 'Evil Empire' so I thought..."
"...and maybe Dark Jedis?"
(pouting) "I dunno. But you DIDN'T say 'Home Depot.'"
Well. He's got me there.