Well, it seems that my dreams of someday owning my very own pair of Converse sneakers made of hemp have been dashed, no thanks to me mum. Yesterday evening my mother and I proceeded to walk into Journey's, she to return a pair of shoes she'd bought for the brother and me to look at brightly-coloured socks. It seems that I was more successful in my attempts than was Mum. I was looking at a pair of striped knee-high socks when I heard Mum raise her voice at the sales guy, who just happens to be the same guy that's there every time I go into the store. Apparently he had told her that the shoes were dirty and could not be returned. She told him that the only place they'd been worn was down her hallway when Tristan decided they slipped on his heals too much. He continued to tell her they were dirty, and she of course took this as an insult as to the cleanliness of her home. Mum is not unlike me in that she prides herself in being a very clean person, so as she continued to get angry, I continued to browse through the store until there was nothing left at which to look, creeping toward the hall as I went. Finally the guy gave Mum her money, and we bolted out of the door faster than a liberal to a protest. It goes without saying that I shall never be able to shop at Journey's in T-town again. I am quite proud of Mum, but now I have to worry about where to get star-covered shoe strings.
Slainte!
seashell
