Two little fish.

Well the car situation is fixed...for now at least. Gooses' dad gave us a car for the time being. It's a beat up old Cavalier, but it moves, and really that's all that matters.

Today is the first day back at work for the dear, sweet Goose. I know this is a bad idea, but she's stubborn as all-get-out and will have to come to that conclusion on her own. She's an hour and a half into her shift and is currently in a stupid amount of pain despite her pain meds. :( Poor love.

On the way to drop her off today we came to the conclusion that it is time for a new vacuum cleaner. Our old one is on it's last leg. I'm pretty sure this is due to the fact that although Goose vacuums diligently, she does not wind up the cord properly and doesn't empty the dust tank enough...but that's a rant for another time.

I told her I would get a new one while she was at work. It didn't quite work out like that.

I left Goose, debating vacuum cleaners to myself. I want a Dyson, but really, I don't need to spend that kind of money on one until Goose gets the aforementioned issues taken care of. So crap vacuum it is. I drive pondering where to go, and end up debating between Target and Walmart. I decide I can probably get a better deal at Walmart, but then realize that I can't stand Walmart and decide on Target.

As I'm waiting at a red light to head off to Target I see a store called Pet Club. I wonder to myself what on earth they sell in that tiny little shop. Probably not dogs. I can't imagine they have room for large animals. It's probably just small rodents and fish. Maybe birds.

I bet Goose would love some fish, I think to myself. Two little fish. Probably black-moore goldfish. You know, the black ones with the bubbly eyes. They would be friends. We could call them Milo and Otis, or something equally cringe-worthy.

Before I know it I have driven to a pet store, parked the car and am standing in front of the wall-o-fish with a cart full of fishy supplies and no vacuum cleaner. I look down, horrified at how I've managed to do the exact opposite of what I set out to do.

Are fish the opposite of a vacuum cleaner?

Clearly yes...

Anyway, here I am, eyes glazing over, cart full of fish accessories....and I just totally panic. I run from the store. Run like life depends on it. Never looking back. I run so fast I imagine time stops. I get into the car and lock the door. I sit, heart pounding, staring wild-eyed back at the pet shop.

Did anyone see me? Can I really run faster than the mind can process images? Did I really stop time? Probably not.

Why is that guy staring at me like that? Oh...right...

Awkward.

What you Dear Friend, may not know, is that this is a recurring issue with me. I get sent off to the store by Goose, on a mission of sorts, and somehow manage not only to buy the wrong things, but to go to the wrong stores. I return home triumphant, not with the missing ceviche ingredients but with beer and make-up. Not with dog food, but with a new chisel set and six balls of yarn. Where exactly is it that things begin to go awry? Well, that I don't know. But I'm pretty sure it has something to do with my attention span and the fact that I'm easily distracted.

I sat in the car outside the pet shop for a good ten minutes trying to figure out what to do. If I continue on my journey to get a vacuum, what on earth am I going to come home with? What weird connections will my brain make along the way? What shiny thing will distract me, and more than that, what strange story will I have to tell to justify it?

Afraid of my own bizarre habits, I drove home. I am now, sitting here on the couch, trying to figure out what I'm going to tell Goose when she notices there is no shiny new vacuum cleaner in the closet....and wondering just what she's going to say when I tell her in my head, 'go get a vacuum cleaner' sounds an awful lot like 'I sure do wish we had some pet fish'.