It is well-known that there is some magical device just inside stores' doors that makes you forget everything you were there to buy. I combat this by reciting my list in the parking lot and out loud as I walk into the store (note: this is a LOT less creepy when I'm shopping with someone else). Today's trip had four items: plastic wrap, matches, tea-light candles, and Hornsby's hard cider. Pretty easy.
I found the candles right away, but still repeated them in my head, since I had a nice little song about plastic wrap, matches, tea-lights, and Hornsby's. As I walked through aisles, I kept singing my song in my head. However, at some point, I thought suddenly...of pandas. They are cute and fuzzy and eat bamboo. I continued to recite my list for a few more aisles, until I noticed it had changed to: plastic wrap, pandas, tea-lights, and Hornsby's.
I mentally grumped at myself to stay on target and continued my trek for matches (not pandas). I looked at many colorful things I do not want nor need. And I walked by a display of pretty pillows (I have a prettier one as a recent present), admired the colors, and kept walking. After a minute, I figured it was time to remember what I was looking for. My mantra assured me I was shopping for panda, pandas, pillow, and a panda. DAMMIT!
I found they had Hornsby's in stock (which is a whole other rant, by itself) and the plastic wrap was nearby. I thought of a cute panda-pillow that I'd seen in the last 24 hours and my inner shopping list was updated accordingly: panda, panda, panda-pillow, panda. Matches and plastic wrap lived in the same place, which made me immensely grateful, because I was now apparently on a panda shopping trip and couldn't remember anything else on my list.
As I got near the check-put, some useful portion of my brain exerted itself to add "trashy magazines" to the end of my panda list. This is actually true and good because I have another international trip coming up and magazines full of celebrity gossip are perfect for plane rides. I checked out, walked to the car, and noticed my inner monologue was happily singing about getting everything on my list: panda, pandas, panda-pillow, panda, and trashy magazines. I sometimes wonder if I killed too many brain cells at parties in the 90's.
An Erinku:
lighting candles
with matches
way classier
than lighters
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