Hubby has discovered online shopping
LESLEY CREWE ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
There’s been an unexpected hiccup with my husband’s medical recovery. Before his health scare, he never sat down except to eat. He was busy every minute of every day. After 40 years of marriage, I was used to it. Then BAM. Now he has to take things slowly and he’s not happy about it, which means I’m not happy about it.
And now I’m livid.
He’s discovered online shopping.
Since it’s not as easy to roar off in the car anymore, he spends hours looking at the computer, tracking down tools our children might need now that they are both homeowners.
“Look at this! A corded multicrafter kit. Seventy-five per cent off !”
“What does it do and who needs it?”
“Oh, it’s very handy. And they’ve got an eight-outlet power bar on sale and ... whoa, Nelly! ... they’re practically giving away this 18V cordless drill!”
“When was the last time our kids did anything remotely handy? You’ve always rushed in and done it for them.”
“They have to learn to fend for themselves.”
“Exactly. Why don’t you let them buy this stuff themselves if they need it so badly?”
“They don’t know they need it. Besides, Christmas is coming. What a better time to buy gifts!”
The gifts I’m thinking of involve the perennial favourites; pyjamas, books, games, mitts, sweaters, on a good year maybe a cellphone. I can’t wait to see their faces this year when they open up a stud finder and ratchet set.
I think I’ve mentioned my wrist problem. Thanks to my husband, I am now the proud owner of three different types of wrist straps: one for everyday use, one for raking and another for lifting cars, should the occasion arise.
He shouts from the kitchen every three minutes. “Come see this! It’s a marble cheese cutter. That’s handy.”
No, it’s not. It’ll fill up what little kitchen countertop space I have.
“Serrated knives!” he booms. “Do we have enough of those?”
I now have men in large trucks ringing my doorbell at all hours of the day to deliver packages. I’m not used to this. We can go for years and not hear our doorbell chime, so I normally live in oversized, holey jogging pants and pyjama tops. Now, I have to get dressed so I don’t scare these people.
One of them dragged this huge box up to the door. “Golly! What’s this?”
“Looks like a snowblower, ma’am.”
Oh right. I forgot he bought that, too. He also bought a new generator and now wants a shed to put it in.
“You better hope the power goes out and it snows everyday from now until next August,” I grump.
I’m not sure how to live with this new creature who scrolls through the endless pages of Amazon and ebay. He insists on reading the descriptions of things out loud. I have to pretend I’m interested for the first few seconds before I grab the laundry basket in desperation and head downstairs with it.
“I’m not finished!”
“I have stuff in the dryer. I can hear you! Keep talking!”
I can’t hear him, thank goodness, and I don’t have stuff in the dryer. I pet the cat for five minutes before I re-emerge back upstairs.
“So, what do you think?” he says. “Should we get it?”
Lesley Crewe is a writer living in, and loving, Cape Breton. These are the meandering musings of a bored housewife whose ungrateful kids left her alone with a retired husband and two fat cats who couldn’t care less. Her 10th novel, Beholden, is being released this fall.
Online shopping isn’t for everyone.