A farmer, a mechanic and a decorator walk into a store…

Michaels is my favourite craft and decor shop.  To hold a coupon for 40% off of any item at Michaels in my hot little hands is exciting.  To possess two of these coupons at once was quite simply an opportunity not to be missed. (This was before I discovered that I could go online and print off as many as I had ink for.)  The problem was that they were limited to one per customer, per day.  Clearly, I had to get creative.

Albert and I made for London.  Albert’s little brother Matthew, a tall, handsome, dour-faced boy (think Matthew Macfadyen holding a monkey wrench), had business at a garage in London, so we decided to drive up together.  Neither of the boys deemed it necessary to change their clothes for the trip into town.  In the parking lot at Michaels, I gave Albert one of the precious coupons and rehearsed the plan with him one last time.

Have you ever felt proud and embarrassed at the same time?  If so, then you know how I felt when I walked into Michaels with my rugged and rural menfolk in tow.  The coiffed and polished ladies of London did a double take when they clapped eyes on my husband’s flannel shirt, filthy gumboots and Matthew clomping through Michaels in steel-toed boots and greasy coveralls.

I gathered the items I wanted to buy and divided them into two lots, one to be purchased by me and the other by Albert.   But when we got to the checkout counter, I gave up hope of trying to fool anyone with my double coupon.  I’m not saying that there aren’t plenty of manly fellas out there who like to fashion silk floral arrangements in their hour of leisure.  But I think that the spectacle of my husband unloading a basket of baby’s breath, evening primrose in Mountbatten pink and spools of matching ribbon pushed even the most unbiased checkout girl there past credulity.

Look at the bearing and the confidence in that stance. Back off ladies. Get your own farmer.

We’re just lucky that they didn’t ask him to describe his favourite technique for arranging a Hogarth curve bouquet.  The closest he comes to arranging a bouquet of anything is when he picks a fistful of colour-coded spark plugs from a shelf at Canadian Tire.


2 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by suzen on February 23, 2012 at 9:36 pm

    very funny and i love this story i can totally picture it! lol


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