Yes, another one.

I am not a shopper.

I hate to shop.

At one time in my life I could have shopped and shopped - but I had no money.  I was free to look and browse, unencumbered by having to make a choice.  I was footloose and fancy free, no kids to drag along or for which I must find a sitter in order to shop.

Those days are long gone.

Every time I shop it means I have to make a commitment.  A commitment to drive myself fur-freaking crazy with kids in tow, or a commitment to finding and paying for a sitter, or taking the entire blessed family with me.

It's a commitment when the kids and family aren't with me because I have to be armed with a cell phone, leave times, locations and objectives for everyone to be able to hunt me down.

Not to mention the commitment of making a choice...

It all started to go down hill with the first child, bless her little heart.  I quit grocery shopping with her when she reached 18 months of age; she was simply too wiggly, too curious, too tired to cooperate in a stimulus-saturated environment like a grocery store.  She outgrew that stage, became more compliant as she approached her late toddlerhood, but it was too late.  I'd come to dread shopping. 

The last straw was the trip to find an outfit for the company Christmas party.  There I was, in a state of dishabille, when the little imp crawled out from under the dressing room stall and walked out into the store on her own.  I freaked out and went looking for her, gingerly hiding behind racks to try and coax her back.  Fortunately she was spooked and came back without much effort; fortunately, too, the store was not very busy.

But still...there I was, in my skivvies, in the middle of J.C. Penney's, chasing a toddler.

Since that episode nearly ten years ago, shopping has never been the same.

The worst part of building a house has been the requisite shopping.  There are a million tiny decisions that badger and pester the owner every damned day.  I am sick of them.  I am sick of the torment, wondering whether I've chosen the right thing for future resale or if I've chosen something that was too personal.  Have I chosen something that will be easy for the contractor to install or have I chosen something I will regret because it simply doesn't match my tastes no matter how difficult it is to install?  Did I choose the best option for economy and environmental impact?  Will I catch it at the right price or will it be on sale next week?  And will I be able to find it readily on the first go-round, or will I have to drag the entire family with me to find it among any one of three or more building centers?

I am so bloody tired of hearing, I'm hungry.  I'm thirsty.  Can't we go home yet?  I have to go to the bathroom.  My feet are tired.  I don't like that.  Why did you pick that?  That costs too much.  That's not in the budget. I don't know what the budget is for this.  I don't know what the price is.  Why aren't you picking something nicer?  It's not going to fit.  I don't care for that color/style. The other store was better.  We have to go to another store.

I'll let you guess which of those phrases are the ones that strike terror in my heart.

This evening I browsed through two lighting catalogs, looking at a couple thousand fixtures.  Last night I went through websites for several building centers looking at light fixtures.  In the last month I have been through five stores looking at light fixtures.

I still have absolutely no idea what to choose in the way of light fixtures.

The only blessing is that I didn't have to drag the kids out again for the umpteenth time to look at fixtures, spending my time here at home instead, browsing through catalogs.  The spouse tells me he's bringing home at least two more catalogs tomorrow from the electrical supply company.

I could positively barf up a light fixture right now. 

Yet push has come to shove and I must pick something.  The electrician has already done 90 percent of the work on site - and completed the bulk of that in an incredibly brief amount of time.  He is a Tolkien-esque figure, a small, wizened creature with longish arms, a hooked nose, a wrinkled face like that of a apple-head doll; he cannot be a lick over five foot four and not a whit over one hundred twenty-five pounds.  We've gotten on famously; he loved my electrical layouts, what with all the color-coded mapping of different fixtures and switch plate locations and what not.  Having all that information laid out for him saved considerable time that translated directly to the job site.  At his direction, six spry young men wired the entire house inside four hours, darting back and forth from the electrical layout back to a stud where they yanked, drilled, hammered, yanked again and then darted back to the plan for the next outlet location.  All done...except for the damned light fixtures.

I'm sitting here writing this, venting my spleen instead of shopping for them.  Agh.

And don't get me started on appliances.

I'm supposed to be shopping for a bloody range hood right now, too.

Please, please, let me not have to go to Sears.

Or Home Depot.  Or Lowe's.  Or Circuit City.  Or Best Buy...

8:38:56 PM    comment []