For her birthday tomorrow, I was determined to be more on top of things. To my credit, I have her birthday meal planned and I am, in theory, confident it is not going to be horrible. As for gifts, I long ago took the easy way out on that and asked for a very specific list in order to avoid disappointment on all sides. No different this year, nor was the fact that I waited until the last minute - this afternoon - to get it together, making me once again a leading candidate for #Husbandoftheyear.
As said candidate armed with my list, earlier today I ventured into a certain store whose name sounds a
PERFUME LADY: "Do you want the (suddenly she burst into a French accent) Oh Day Twah-lette or the Oh Day Pahr-Fumeh?
ME: Brief stunned silence, as I was still trying to process the sudden appearance of the French accent..."Um, I'll take perfume, please." I instantly regretted that I did not say "Si vous plait"
PERFUME LADY: Turning her head and
ME: Trying to process the fact that she seemed to think we were in a parfumerie along the Champs Elysses in Paris and not an outdoor strip mall built a top an old golf course in the middle of freaking Connecticut, I said, "Yes, the par, I mean, perfume, parfume." The way I stumbled over 'perfume' was a not so subtle intonation for her not to hurt me.
After this little verbal take down, she asked me if there was anything else I needed, like a special cologne for myself. I said no, thank you, blowing the chance to toss in 'merci.' In retrospect, that was probably wise. I suspect it wouldn't have ended well. So better to continue to birthday preparations, which is precisely what I did. Because #Husbandoftheyear.