Huh?

I slept funny last night, and though the thudding in the head is mostly gone, I have a odd pain in my neck when I turn my head a certain way.  Maybe I just have a pain in my neck.  Maybe, perhaps, this day gave me a pain in the neck, because it was just one of THOSE days.

But....

IT'S COFFEE DAY!

Should have been Jack Daniels day.

The day started out fine and dandy, with a morning view of the Hoarders episode going on next door.  Piles of kaka strewn about the neighbor's yard, but at least they covered the kaka with tarps, so I have no idea if I should have spent the wee hours of dawn picking through shite like a crazy person.  Considering the cleanout is being done with masks on, it's probably not anything I'd be thrilled over anyway.

The windows are open again, and I get to bask in the glory of whistling.  Every damn morning.  I don't know what the problem is across the road, but they might want to consider a leash.  In fact, if I have to listen to the incessant whistling for the dog too many more mornings, I am going to go buy a leash and tape it to their back door.  Don't they get tired of whistling for the stupid dog every morning?  Are they completely oblivious to the invention of leashes?  I don't understand this, as the whistling for the dog to come home happens daily, and goes on for over 20 minutes at a minimum.  Maybe there is NO dog.  That would actually make the whole scenario vastly more interesting, but alas, judging by the piles of steaming poo I occasionally find in our yard, I know that Rover exists and is a very healthy LARGE dog with a big appetite.

I had an AHA moment last night about the glorious leather belt, and once again, life comes full circle to THE purse.  If you have no clue what I'm talking about, just keep reading through my senseless ramblings of the last week.  And you'll see...oh yes, you WILL see.  It's ALL about THE purse.

After the staggering to bed Friday night in a happy daze of new purse ownership, you would think I would have taken the day Saturday for some sloth time.  However, true to any planned slothdom in my life, something always comes up.  Like yet another Goodwill sale.  50% off everything in a small little town about half an hour from me.  So, out of the pajamas, into the well loved jeans that do not require a belt, and I was on the road again.  Because I had already been gleefully shopping on Wednesday, I knew that Maurices was having a 75% off clearance sale...as in and ADDITIONAL 75% off their sale prices.  This little burg I was heading to actually still has a Maurices in their downtown, though the rest of the town seems to be dying a slow death.  So, silly little me thought I would check out their clearance and see what goodies they had. 

My wallet is screaming at me now.  Because not only did they have a large selection, it was actually a HUGE selection.  Bigger than I've ever seen in any other Maurices.  And it was one of those magical days where even the random stuff I piled into the dressing room on a whim was fitting perfectly.  I was hitting the motherload, and texting pictures to my daughter on the things that were not quite my style.  (I now know what floral leggings look like on me, and it's downright frightening.)  So, by the time I was done with this bargain bonanza, I could have cared less about the Goodwill sale and just decided to head home before I ended up in a position of feeding my children Ramen noodles for the next month.

As I loaded my haul upstairs, I was determined to put it all away in my closet and the daughter's closet, but there was the hanger shortage to consider.  And because there really are an obscene amount of hangers in the closet, this meant that before I hung my own purchases, I was going to force myself to clean out my closet once again.  I actually did pretty good, purging even more than I bought, and it even included purging out the handful of so-so purses I had hung on to before the purchase of THE purse.  Everything was neatly stacked and organized and just went straight into the large shopping bags I had emptied.

Now, rambling even further into the twilight zone, there WAS a rather nice brown leather purse at our store when we restocked.  It was not THE purse, but at the price marked, I considered it briefly.  The one obstacle I couldn't get past though, was the short handles.  But, since the handles were mounted on very strong metal hardware, I thought MAYBE, I could match the brown leather with a purse I had at home with a removable shoulder strap.  So, in the days of job obsession, I actually remembered to grab that strap and attempt to match it to the purse, but, obviously failed badly.  But, also in the job obsession, I had forgotten to attach the strap back on to it's correct purse at home, so it was just sitting on the table in that horrid pile I had accumulated through the week.

When I brought my purge downstairs from the bedroom, I saw that strap, and knowing the purse was in the bags I was hauling, grabbed it and shoved it in.  I remember having a moment of confusion, but wrote it off as not taking any sloth time and my brain being fried.

Fast forward to the glorious leather belt debacle.  I not only searched the house in the morning, I searched it later that night.  I nearly accused my family of taking my glorious leather belt, but thankfully, refrained from letting that amount of bitchy grumpypants leave my mouth.  I even had a brief moment of considering the household ghost and it's antics, but it has not made an appearance, pulled a prank, or spoken in about a year. 

So, of course, right before going to bed, when I seem to have the most wits about me (which basically is like admitting that I'm brain dead the remainder of my day), I thought STOP THE PRESSES.  Could that glorious leather belt have ended up in my purge?  Could it now be sitting in the storeroom of the store, buried in one of MANY bins, waiting to be priced with the rest of my purges?  Why would I even do such a thing?  That would mean that Friday night, when I whipped it off, I left it somewhere at the end of the bed and did NOT put it in it's spot.  And I'm the OCD freak that has a spot for EVERYTHING.  I would have to admit that I did not put it away, and it is one thing to admit to the shame of filth piles all over my table, but in the bedroom, where clothes, accessories, and shoes are concerned?  SHAMEFUL.

After fueling for the day, I made it my mission to find my bin of purge stuff amongst all the bins.  I ran the errands I needed to for work, and then grunted, pouring sweat, as I moved and shifted around bins in the store room.  And lo, and behold, I found THE GLORIOUS LEATHER BELT.  Stuck inside the purse like it was the missing strap.

Though I was wearing my last capri that didn't need a belt, you can be sure I put that sucker on so I could guarantee I would not forget it at work.  And hell yes, I danced a little jig in that dressing room.

All because of THE purse.  At least, that's my story, and I think I will stick with it.  Because I have decided that now everything is because of THE purse.  It is a magical purse.  And it smells sooooo good.

The recovery of the glorious leather belt should have charmed the day into being one of sunshine, glitter, and rainbows.  But oh no....we are only allowed a max of two shining moments a day, and I should have realized that with it being COFFEE DAY, my glory was going to be the belt, and that afternoon coffee run.

I spent entirely too much time today, trying fruitlessly to explain to someone that all our merchandise is consignment.  No, the multitudes of purses are not "made" by someone.  No, we don't order them.  No, people aren't crafting them.  I don't know why, but she was really STUCK on these purses being homemade.  Which was really difficult to understand on my part, because these are the average (and way above average) purses you see in stores everywhere you go.  Leather, faux leather, fringed, studded, chained, logos everywhere.  Why was she so obsessed over thinking they were homemade?    Short of sticking her head into a purse and making her read the "Made in China" label personal and up close, I just was NOT going to get through to her.  I was confused, my coworker was confused, the customer was REALLY confused.  I had to give up, and I hate having to leave a customer confused, but it was truly a lost cause.

Of course, this same customer attempted to leave the store with her UNPAID jewelry selections, so I think we were dealing with general confusion all around.  Believe it or not, I actually really like to believe in the inherent goodness of people, so I'm going to go with "confused" here, and not "thieving little shit".  Though it really was a case of appearing to be "thieving little shit", but I'm still going to give her the benefit of the doubt so I can stay on the positive side of life.

It was a very strange day, filled with very strange people.  People who talked WAY too much.  Obviously, I'm a chatty little shit myself, but in the store today, it was ALOT of chatter about personal things.  Gossip.  Personal dramas.  WAY too much information.  Information that was not requested, but the "hello, how are you" was obviously an invitation to share.  And share.  And share.  Therapy sessions are $1 extra on your total, by the way.

I enjoyed giving a scarf demonstration to my aunt and her friend.  Until I had a woman join in and offer to model said scarf.  And then decided to whip off some of her clothing down to her tank top in order to model it better.  All with the pretty scarf that my aunt's friend was considering buying.  And I don't know about them, but I was starting to feel a bit AWKWARD passing around this scarf to people that were NOT considering buying it and just happened to be in the right place at the right time.  I mean, we are not a store with multiples of anything, so if something had happened to this scarf while I was demonstrating, that's one thing, but then what if this model/customer decided SHE wanted the scarf?  Or what if she ripped it because she grabbed it out of my hands a little too eagerly?  I was thankful when my aunt's friend calmly suggested we just put the scarf on her pile of goodies and just forgo the scarf demonstration that everyone seemed to be joining in on.

Along with the normal oddball crazies that seemed to be wandering in, I had a moment when a customer was asking about a duvet set.  She was talking to my coworker, so I was not catching the entire conversation, but it was something about a puppy.  I was really confused what this would have to do with a duvet, and a really nice one at that, because last I knew, puppies pee randomly and you wouldn't want them to do that on a really nice duvet.  This somehow led to her asking if we allowed puppies in the store, and I firmly (but nicely) said no.  She asked if she could take the duvet out to the car to show it to _____?  At this point, I had to assume there was a person waiting in the car, and that she was not going to be seeking purchase approval from a puppy.  I told her that was fine, and she was gone a few moments.  When she came back in, she had another person with her, answering my mental question about who she was showing it to, but then my coworker and I realized that her shopping partner had a puppy in her hands.

Wait a minute.

Didn't I already say a puppy could NOT come in the store?

Apparently, in the span of three minutes, that answer was forgotten.  Not by me, so I very sweetly exclaimed how cute this puppy was, immediately followed by a "but we can't have a puppy in the store".  The woman seemed a bit confused by this request, so I elaborated by telling her the obvious..."puppies piddle".  She promptly planted herself at the door on the tiled floor and off the carpet, I'm sure showing how willing she was to make it easier for me to clean up any potential piddle.  At that moment, I chose to pick my battles and thanked her.  What exactly I was thanking her for, I am not sure, but at least no merchandise was piddled on.  And the duvet was purchased.  Maybe for the puppy.  Maybe for the shopping partner.  I have no idea.

The crazy day thankfully ended, and I came home to more viewings of the Hoarders episode.  I also wonder if there are exotic birds hoarded in the house, because there were parrot like screechings when I got out of my car.  However, after the day I just had, I was not about to turn around to see what all the screeching ruckus was about.  After all, yesterday was the shirtless mullet man, and maybe this was some kind of strange mating call I was not aware of. 

My doors are locked.  I closed the curtains.  I really don't want to deal with anymore strangeness today.  Which probably will mean an early bedtime, so I can be sure to have escaped to the sanctuary of the bedroom before my children get home.

And the belt is hanging in it's SPOT.