Tuesday, December 14, 2010

The Father of all Invention

I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet today.

The worst part wasn't really the loss of a perfectly good toothbrush. Or the fact that I had just put a fresh bead of toothpaste on it. No, the worst part was that, for a non-trivial amount of time, I stood over the toilet considering whether I should fish it out, rinse it off, and use it anyway.

And that, my friends, is shopping hungry.

It's momentarily suffering from a lack of good judgment; of defying that internal monologue pleading for better sense; of seemingly desperate times and accordingly desperate measures.

I, myself, am a frequent shopper...

I was home from school for the holidays, excited to be done with finals and lazily looking forward to three weeks of gluttony, inactivity, and Oreo balls. My parents had just purchased some new furniture for their den - a room I couldn't remember ever having spent any amount of time in. But, with a tiny bit of sprucing, they had turned the room into a cozy, wood-paneled paradise. Suddenly, I longed to do a face-plant directly onto the overstuffed leather couch and matching ottoman, feet wrapped around fleece blanket and stomach wrapped around poor eating choices. But the room was missing something. Something crucial, something key.

It was missing a television.

Struck by this obvious oversight, I asked my parents where the TV would go. Hung on the wall somewhere? Or maybe placed on a table across from the couch? Either way, surely it must be arriving soon.  There were at least four other TVs in our house, all equipped with cable, and all perfectly capable of providing me with the mind trash I enjoyed - nay, deserved - each day.  But that really wasn't the point.

"Carrie, that's the problem here," my dad said a little too calmly. "You have spent the last two years without your own TV, and so suddenly you come home and expect every room to have one. You're desperate."

"You're shopping hungry."

No comments:

Post a Comment