While on vacation in Maine, Hubby and I went shopping. Yes, I know. You don't believe it. It's true. We do that occasionally and Hubby comes with me rather than sleeping on the park bench like some of the other husbands we noticed. The poor sods most likely followed their wives off the ship but really just wanted to sleep off the buffet breakfast. Yeah, like that guy. Really.
As long as we keep the shopping timeframe/threshold/parameters to within a couple of hours, we are OK. Otherwise, we start to morph into shop zombies and start buying refrigerator magnets and plastic wind chimes and think that lobster claw Christmas ornaments would make great gifts. Then we eat fudge and ice cream and swim naked in the Atlantic. Wait. That didn't happen. I promise. We had cinnamon rolls and brownies.
Anyhowsitwhatever, we were in a cute little "natural/alternative" shop and I decided to purchase some locally made jams. Keep in mind this is in a town where there is a cruise ship docked at the harbor. That's right. TOURISTS shop here. I take the jams to the cashier and ask for a bag and packing materials. I hand her my credit card. She starts looking at me like I've sprouted another head and gives my credit card the evil eye and holds onto it for dear life. After I sign the receipt, she compares my signature to the card signature. So people REALLY do that? While she was waiting for the credit card approval, she pulled out one small paper bag and puts my four jars of jam into the one bag. Yes. Really. No padding. No nothing.
I ask again for packing materials. She offered me a couple more small bags. Sheesh! I had to wrap and pack the stuff myself. Folks. I'm an obvious tourist. Did she not get that I have to get this stuff home somehow?
She got under my skin faster than the the last splinter I got from my old wheelbarrow and you don't want to know what I did to that one-wheeled monster. It took some deep breathing to stop me from jumping over that counter. This girl was starting to resemble Anne Boleyn and I was thinking about heads on platters for some reason.
Maybe I was getting hungry?
Later, Hubby reminded me we were in a "natural/alternative" shop with a bunch of tree-huggers. Oh. Right. Now I remember. I believe in taking care of the earth but I'm sure they didn't want blueberry jam all over their store because their Nothing-Between-the-Ears cashier only gave me ONE bag to hold FOUR jars?
Hubby had to help me with the perspectives in this situation. He nicely suggested that I was supposed to have my own canvas bag, like the locals do. Um, OK. Yes, I have those. HERE. IN TEXAS. WHERE I LIVE. No, I don't take them with me on vacation.
Well. Teach ME a lesson. Maybe I should.
That's right. The "bag" can serve multiple purposes while away from home. Not only will it hold multiple jars of jam, it will keep the sun and rain off your face and with those handles, it could possibly be used as a weapon.
Photo credits: bagged geek: ReformingGeek self-photo, check flickr.com for more of my inspired self-photos........KIDDING, sleeping off the buffet: troyperkins on flickr.com, Creative Commons license, see sidebar.