"I think I found you that stuff you wanted."

"You mean the Liberty of London bags and wellies? And the boxes?"

"Bags and boots. Couldn't find the boxes."

"Are the prints okay? I mean, do they look as vibrant in person as they do on the ads?"

"Whatever. The shit has flowers on it."

"What kind of flowers? I like the poppy prints but I'm not so fond of their purple prints."

".....I am lost in a Target store the size of a moderately sized shopping mall, I have only had a bagel to eat all day but I've lost at least two cups of sweat from my genital area alone in the past hour in this godforsaken desert heat, and I will never forgive you if you force me to find a sales associate and make me ask what type of fucking flowers I am looking at."

"I'm sure the flowers are lovely. Good eye. You're a hero. Much love. Thinking of you. Husband of the year award."

"I'm not going to another store to find the boxes."

"...well, shit."

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