I think that someone who is following me is following me.
Okay, I don’t really think that – mostly – but I thought of that sentence, and it sounded kind of fun and confusingly ironic. So, there it is.
I mostly don’t think the follower is following me, but there is a tiny bit of me that wonders. And I usually like to display those tiny bits on this blog for the entertainment of others – and just in case something happens to me and I end up missing and you need some clues to find my body.
So, what happened was that the whole family made a trip to Half Price Books on Sunday. We brought a trainload of books to sell on THE EXACT SAME DAY THE REST OF SAN ANTONIO DECIDED TO SELL THEIR BOOKS. And, of course we were not first in line. And, of course, Half Price Books has this silly little policy that you need to remain in the store until they call you with a quote.
So, we spent twelve hours in the store.
Okay, it might have been just 63 minutes. But it was just long enough for us to find enough books so that the quote that we got was for exactly $1 less than the price of the books we were going to buy.
And long enough for a perfect stranger, dressed in a suit, to address me as I walked down an aisle to find my daughter, with, “Well, hello.”
Now I’ve been out of the game for awhile, but I seem to remember that when a person who is completely unknown to me finds a reason to say, “Well, hello,” putting an accent on the “lo” part, and there is no one else around but me, that they are trying to start a conversation with me. And the only reason to start a conversation with me is to: sell me something, preach to me about salvation, or pick me up.
I didn’t wait around to find out which of those three actions Mr. Suit had in mind. I mumbled something, and made a beeline for my daughter.
“Why would someone try to sell me something in the middle of Half Price Books?” I thought. And then I realized I had been standing in the Religion section – completely by accident, I swear – and I thought, “Oh, he is probably on a mission to save me from becoming a Jedi Knight.” And then I remembered I’d forgotten to wear my wedding ring.
“Oh my God. He was hitting on me!” I thought. Because, let’s face it – how would he know of my intentions to be a Jedi Knight? It’s not like I carry a light saber around with me.
So then I spent the rest of our interminable time trying to avoid Mr. Suit, who eyed me knowingly every time I rounded a corner.
Now here is where the follower following me part comes in.
I went home, and that night my professional blog had a new follower. And, I swear to Yoda, his little mini-profile picture looks like Mr. Suit.
Now, admittedly, I am a very paranoid, yet strangely unobservant person. And, it’s possible that I just think they look alike because they are both male and wearing suits. It’s unlikely they are the same person because Blog Follower dude lives in New York according to my extensive Google detective work.
But I’ve definitely learned my lesson.
From now on, I must always wear my wedding ring when I go to Half Price Books.
And start carrying my light saber.
We went to Barnes and Noble the other day with the purpose of buying a birthday present for a friend and allowing Dimples to burn some more gift card money.
Dimples, who is 9, decided to buy herself something she had been craving for a couple of months – a Hexbug.
For those of you who have not been introduced to this
pest toy, the Hexbug is a battery-operated creature that will run around your house, looking like a neon mutant survivor of a nuclear holocaust.
This purchase disturbed me for a few reasons.
First of all, as regular readers know, we already have tarantulas, snakes, and unidentified rodents prowling our abode. Not to mention our two dogs and a fish. I don’t really see why we need to introduce another living thing into the mix.
B.) I don’t understand the appeal of a moving creature that does not respond to its name or to a remote control. The fish also falls into this category, but at least he is pleasing to the eye.
3.) I am really, really tempted to step on this blasted blue bug or feed it to Wonderbutt. Which would upset Dimples. But it might make for some good video as it crawls through the dog’s digestive tract.
The real thing that makes me sad is that Dimples got this at Barnes and Noble.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all about technology. But it’s a little depressing to walk through a Barnes and Noble these days, and find that less than half the store is actually dedicated to selling tangible books that you can thumb through and re-shelf in the wrong place.
I remember the first Barnes and Noble in town. It started as a place with books, music, and a café. Perfect. A literary/music/coffee lover paradise. The Cap’n and I went there on one of our first dates.
Then games started to creep in. Some time last year, the tiny game and toy section that used to consist of a couple of bookshelves and a table became a section as large as the cafe.
Then the Nook section began to
infest the place take over. It went from a small counter somewhere in the middle of the store to a huge counter at the front of the store to what is now 1/3 of the store with a pod for people to try out the product, false walls displaying Nooks on shelves, and an actual area for “Nook Classes” smack in the middle of the store.
I have been known to read a book or two on my iPad when I am traveling. I am not opposed to electronic books. But I find it more than slightly ironic that virtual books are about to take up more space in the bookstore than the physical ones.
As for Hexbugs, I don’t really know what to say about that. The good news is that Dimples only headed for that area after she bought the books she had been wanting. So, it appears that she has her priorities somewhat straight.
At least she did until she bought the “fart” putty in the “dollar” section at Target.