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I am not a shopper!

Let's be totally truthful: I HATE shopping. And if I have to shop, for whatever reason, I REALLY HATE to shop with my wife. On the infrequent occasions that I have to buy something, I go to the kind of store that has the item I need, look around for the briefest time possible, and then buy what I like. I don't want to "debate" the pros and cons, or to query the salespeople. I don't want to linger over the imponderables, and to return, repeatedly, to reexamine something I think might be right. I definitely do not want to do comparisons with every other fucking similar thing that might be obtained from somewhere else. My wife makes buying anything a near-delirious celebration of each new object being acquired, but only after she has first cranked up a full-scale Congressional-style investigation and court cross examination of all the people and issues involved, on the way to making up her mind as to the ultimate purchase decision. I am just not into it.

Anyway, understanding my feelings on this, you can imagine how horrified I was to learn, last Wednesday, that I was going to have to accompany my wife as she shopped for furniture. Saying that I was "resistant" to this idea is a mammoth understatement. However, I do have to confess that I was also not keen on letting my wife decide, on her own, just how we were going to furnish our house, when the renovations we are doing are finally complete. ...

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