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thisnewdayHer Nurseliness, as you may have gathered, is the undisputed queen of the casino in our immediate family. No, wait. That's not right. In our extended family. No, that's not it either. Oh, hell, in all of Central New York.
She's what's known as a "Platinum VIP." Which means that the concierge at the Tower Hotel totally puckers up when she approaches the desk to take possession of her complimentary room for the night. "And, is there anything else that we can do to make Her Nurseliness's stay more pleasant?" he'll ask.
So, yeah, you get the picture. She's pretty much the queen of anything having to do with luck. Until this very morning, that is.
It seems that Yours Truly, otherwise known as her dutiful spouse, was recently commissioned to find a replacement for Her Nurseliness's LL Bean quilted down overcoat, which she wears outside for her smoke breaks. Has worn, I should add, with a satisfaction approaching ecstasy for the past four years. And which, given the vicious winds that whip across the university hill, is actually quite remarkable.
Unfortunately, this remarkable garment has reached the end of its useful life. The fabric is worn, the down has compressed and settled, and those prickly little feather thingies are poking through with increasing frequency.
And so it was decided that since she, Her Nurseliness, was far too busy working overtime in addition to maintaining her VIP status at the casino, that I, your humble narrator, should go online and order her a new coat.
Having lived a previous life in the heart of New York's garment district, while obtaining her degree in fashion merchandising, she was well aware that most retail outlets are now clearing their racks for the spring and summer fashions.
So, as she got out of the car at work last night, she said, emphatically, "You'd better order my coat tonight because by tomorrow it'll probably be gone."
To which I responded, "Yeah, yeah, I'll do it when I get home." Which, of course, I did not. I mean, if you accede to every little demand, they'll think they're running the show. Right?
And, as anyone not blessed with this uniquely male perspective would have predicted, they were indeed sold out when I went online this morning to place my order.
Now imagine a badly-aged version of TimTaylor sitting at this very keyboard with that stricken look on his face muttering, "Oooh nooo," as he tries to decide if filling the voids in the old coat with polyurethane expanding foam will get him out of THIS jam.
Quickly deciding that rehabbing with foam insulation will be "Plan B" for now, I jump in the car and hit every women's clothing outlet between East Syracuse and the maritime provinces of Canada.
Finally, I come to the Town Centre Mall and my absolute last hope, the LL Bean outlet store. And, as I'm getting out of the car, I'm saying to myself, "You KNOW that you'd have to have the kind of luck that NO human being has EVER had..."
Still, there's that nagging sense of obligation to deal with, not to mention the fact that I've totally screwed up, so I walk inside and approach the half dozen or so lonely racks of leftover seasonal merchandise.
And there, hanging in the last 12 inches of the very last rack, is Her Nurseliness's new LL Bean quilted down overcoat. And it's priced at an amazing $70 off the online sale price.
Which, I'll explain to her, is precisely why I waited until this morning to purchase her new coat. Because if there's anything Her Nurseliness loves more than staying warm, it's getting a bargain.
The lesson being, if you're a halfway decent liar, who needs luck?
LPK
LiveJournal
1.14.2012
She's what's known as a "Platinum VIP." Which means that the concierge at the Tower Hotel totally puckers up when she approaches the desk to take possession of her complimentary room for the night. "And, is there anything else that we can do to make Her Nurseliness's stay more pleasant?" he'll ask.
So, yeah, you get the picture. She's pretty much the queen of anything having to do with luck. Until this very morning, that is.
It seems that Yours Truly, otherwise known as her dutiful spouse, was recently commissioned to find a replacement for Her Nurseliness's LL Bean quilted down overcoat, which she wears outside for her smoke breaks. Has worn, I should add, with a satisfaction approaching ecstasy for the past four years. And which, given the vicious winds that whip across the university hill, is actually quite remarkable.
Unfortunately, this remarkable garment has reached the end of its useful life. The fabric is worn, the down has compressed and settled, and those prickly little feather thingies are poking through with increasing frequency.
And so it was decided that since she, Her Nurseliness, was far too busy working overtime in addition to maintaining her VIP status at the casino, that I, your humble narrator, should go online and order her a new coat.
Having lived a previous life in the heart of New York's garment district, while obtaining her degree in fashion merchandising, she was well aware that most retail outlets are now clearing their racks for the spring and summer fashions.
So, as she got out of the car at work last night, she said, emphatically, "You'd better order my coat tonight because by tomorrow it'll probably be gone."
To which I responded, "Yeah, yeah, I'll do it when I get home." Which, of course, I did not. I mean, if you accede to every little demand, they'll think they're running the show. Right?
And, as anyone not blessed with this uniquely male perspective would have predicted, they were indeed sold out when I went online this morning to place my order.
Now imagine a badly-aged version of TimTaylor sitting at this very keyboard with that stricken look on his face muttering, "Oooh nooo," as he tries to decide if filling the voids in the old coat with polyurethane expanding foam will get him out of THIS jam.
Quickly deciding that rehabbing with foam insulation will be "Plan B" for now, I jump in the car and hit every women's clothing outlet between East Syracuse and the maritime provinces of Canada.
Finally, I come to the Town Centre Mall and my absolute last hope, the LL Bean outlet store. And, as I'm getting out of the car, I'm saying to myself, "You KNOW that you'd have to have the kind of luck that NO human being has EVER had..."
Still, there's that nagging sense of obligation to deal with, not to mention the fact that I've totally screwed up, so I walk inside and approach the half dozen or so lonely racks of leftover seasonal merchandise.
And there, hanging in the last 12 inches of the very last rack, is Her Nurseliness's new LL Bean quilted down overcoat. And it's priced at an amazing $70 off the online sale price.
Which, I'll explain to her, is precisely why I waited until this morning to purchase her new coat. Because if there's anything Her Nurseliness loves more than staying warm, it's getting a bargain.
The lesson being, if you're a halfway decent liar, who needs luck?
LPK
LiveJournal
1.14.2012
