I found myself in a shop, surrounded by Crumpler messenger bags. Big yay for the products. But a big "why me?" as far as the shopping goes. I couldn't go so far as to say that my time spent there was the most horrible experience of all time. I would like to think that I am broadly speaking an optimistic person. I almost never say that my day didn't go well when anyone asks. But that was just something that I wouldn't have opted to spend my time doing if left to my own devices. You could even say that shopping is the last thing I would ever like to do, even if my arm was twisted. Apparently, my wife just scares me though. Particularly when she really needs me to do something. There's a look involved.
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I think that everyone these days is a pessimist. Having a sour attitude only serves to make everything worse. Looking for random items is the bane of my existence. But when you think about the big picture, looking for the right Crumpler messenger bags is not high on the bother scale. What I am saying is that there are definite levels of being annoyed. Compare a broken television to a broken TV because it falls on your toe.
I got a first hand look at a negative outlook on everything growing up. My dad was like that. Everything got to him. He went around bothered. No matter how hard I try, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I definitely know that I have the same tendencies. Imagining him agreeing to go on a hunt for Crumpler messenger bags is like trying to imagine a werewolf in a skirt. You would get your head torn off trying to get it on the monster. Just thinking of it, I can hear how he might carry-on in my head. There is a 100 percent chance that there would be a spat about not spending a minute of his time surrounded by shelves filled with Crumpler messenger bags. The specific item was immaterial. He would have gotten that way over anything at all, from a shaving kit to a shirt. There wouldn't be any difference. Being out of his happy place, and having to look for anything was a recipe for a catastrophe with him. I don't think I ever saw the guy wear a stitch of clothing or a pair of shoes that he didn't get for the holidays. It was humorous.
Even though I can't help sharing some of his feelings on the subject, I am better about it than he is on his most tolerant day. If anything is required around the house, I have been known to go get it. Sometimes even without any prodding needed. Spending a second of your time being truly upset over Crumpler messenger bags is no way to go, in my book. He had a disagreement with my mother over that once. Nothing too terrible. It was one of those times when the tension had just been building for a while until one of them said something about it. For some reason, he went on the drive with her on that particular occasion, but he would not get out of the car for anything. Not even to help her with the bags as she was heading back. She attempted to drag him in, wanting the company, and he just wouldn't budge.
She dug into him by comparing him to me, as far as dedication goes, and telling him that I went around with her.
I never told my mother this, but I have always considered that a bad assumption on her part. It's not possible to know for sure if children ever like the activities plotted for them. There was just no other choice, end of story. Thinking back on it, I suppose the dynamic between the both of them in my formative years is the reason that I am opposed to shopping now. For all intents and purposes, I have been brought up to not want to go to the malls and browse. My dad's answer to her that day was likely what sealed the deal.
"I'll tell you precisely why he goes into those stores with you," he said. "He's a nut!"
My mother didn’t have any response to that apart from letting out a deep sigh and yanking me into yet another place to shop. I haven't thought about that day in years. Now that I have, I am getting the abrupt impulse to forcibly make my father shop for Crumpler messenger bags with me. Everyone's a comedian.