"Gonna keep on tryin' till I reach my highest ground" --Stevie Wonder

At the party supply store*, I get the shrink wrap for baskets that you can use a hairdryer on--way cool!--and head to the checkout.

Cashier--mind you he's working at a PARTY supply store--, in a voice that has to come up a few levels to hit catatonic: Hi. How are you?

Me: Fine. How are you?

Steven Wright's less enthusiastic brother: *pause* Existing.

Me, Wonderful. A ray of sunshine. Do they teach you to respond that way in little executives school?: Yeah, well... it beats the alternative.**

Cashier: Well, I guess, but at least there, there's the element of surprise.

Me, What the... ? Abort conversation! Abort! *indicating wrap*: Just this.

Cashier: Where did you find this?

Me, perplexed, *pointing in the general direction*: Over there.

Cashier, in the least amazed voice I've ever heard: That's amazing. We had a customer come in earlier this week asking for this stuff and none us knew if we had any.

Me: *blink* Clearly, you do.

Cashier rings up sale.

Me: I can walk over with you and show you where it's kept...

Cashier: Nah. That's okay.

Yeaaaah. I can just imagine the next conversation.

Customer: Do you have that shrink wrap for doing your own baskets?

Cashier: Yeah.

Customer: Great! Can you show me where it is?

Cashier: No. *pointing at own arm* Does this look like a tumor to you?



* A complete misnomer. Wouldn't it be great if they really did supply the whole party? Heaven. But no. Check it. They don't carry mini hot dogs in blankets or drunken karaoke singers. I know. Right?!

** Can I tell you how much I hate that I said this? I might as well have said "Looks like someone has a case of the Mondays!"