Twenty minutes later, on our way out of the restaurant, she said, "Are you looking for something in particular?" No, I wasn't even planning to go in the book store. We can, but just to look around.
I went back to check on Tom and Jerry DVDs for Adam while she browsed the buy-two-get-one-free paperback table. When I returned, she had two from the 2+1 table and a new release hardback, which she expected to get as her free selection. I explained it three times: this hardback is not going to be free. She decided to put the two back and just pay for the hardback, by a writer she never heard of--she just liked the looks of the dust jacket.
On the escalator to the main floor she displayed her exasperation and said, "Could I just have a certain sum of money that I can spend any way I please?" To which I said, you have a credit card for which last month's bill was $2,200.
At checkout she decided I had ruined the whole experience and it wasn't worth buying anything. Her complaint was a familiar one: "Would it bother you to just let me buy a book? I sit in that house all day. You come and go as you please. But all I can do is read a book." But the house is full of unread books that were bought on that very premise. I tell myself, she likes to shop, let her shop. But today I snapped and said, "Yes, it does bother me to buy books that never get read, buy food and watch it rot, buy clothes that never get worn. It's not about reading, it's about the retail transaction. It's five minutes of pleasure for $100, and then do it all over again the next day. I've done all of that I can afford for a while. We need to take a break from the retail experience."
You go along with it 20 times and on the 21st time you snap--and you're a mean insensitive person for it. And then you start over at 1.
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