On the eleventh day of Christmas

On the eleventh day of Christmas I shopped. Oh yes. I shopped my little legs off. Down to nubs, they are.

We went out on a mission to find two specific things. We traversed most of the city (it seemed) and went to every place which was recommended or suggested as a possible supplier for the item we wanted. To no avail.

It was quite the modern day quest we were on. We went in search of the elusive item and came upon a kindly shopkeeper. She said she couldn’t provide the item. Then, in hushed tones, she said “I shouldn’t be telling you this but…” and proceeded to give us a list of complex directions to a place where we might spy the item in question. We travelled to that place, trying very hard to remember the directions given, the secret phrase to utter, how many times to turn counterclockwise at midnight…you know…that sort of thing.
The quest went on until we had exhausted every tip given by each successive shopkeep. With our shoes in tatters and our spirits all but broken, we remembered the second item of our quest. It shouldn’t be as difficult to locate and, in fairness, it wasn’t but it also required multiple points of inquiry before we were finally satisfied.

In all, the expedition took us to no less than seven locations, two of which contained multiple locations within them! With only one of the required two items located it might seem like that was a less than rewarding day but not so. We endured it all with great mirth and merriment. That’s the mark of a good day in my book.

This entry was posted in Private life and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s