What Happened at Hobby Lobby?
Earlier this week, I explained how very sleepy I am, and gave you a top ten list of only nine items. At the prompting of Theresa, my mother, and Beverly, here is item #10…
Several months ago, my friend Theresa took me to a gigantic Hobby Lobby to introduce me to the world of scrapbooking and scrapbooking supplies. If you have never been to one if these stores, let me tell you it is very overwhelming. There are aisles and aisles of crafty items that all look alike to my untrained eye. I paid attention to the layout of the store, knowing that I may have to return at some point without my friend. I memorized how to get to the scrapbooking section, where to pick up the paper, the stickers, all the little doo-dads.
A week or so later, I had to fly solo. I called Theresa en route to her house and got directions to Hobby Lobby. In the parking lot, I took a moment to recall the layout of the store that I had previously imprinted in my mind, and then went inside. The following mayhem ensued…
I entered and walked toward the scrapbooking section. But I looked up to find myself completely disoriented. Where were the scrapbooks? The paper? The cardstock? I was surrounded by reams of fabric and sewing notions.
I stood, mouth agape, in the midst of badly patterned polyester and faux taffeta. I looked right. I looked left. I looked at my list, as if that would help. I wrinkled my eyebrows and talked to myself too loudly. At some level, I realized that there was a logical explanation, but that is obviously not what I communicated to the outside world.
Tamara (internal dialogue): My, this is confusing. I was expecting the scrapbooking section to be here. I am certain this is the area where the scrapbooking section was the last time I was in this store.
Tamara (speaking audibly): Whah? This can’t be right. How’d? Where’d? Whah?
I continued looking around like an eejit until a very Southern Hobby Lobby lady resembling Mrs. Partridge approached me, concerned.
Hobby Lobby Lady: May I help you, honey?
Tamara (internal dialogue): Why, thank you. Yes, you certainly can help me. It seems that I am a little disoriented. I felt certain that the last time I was in this store, the scrapbooking section was exactly in this spot. But I must be confused. Can you point me to the scrapbooking section?
Tamara (speaking audibly): Ummm. Where is? I thought. Uhh. It was... I’m looking. Dhah… I just had a baby... Um. It was here... I was just… Last time... I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense.
Hobby Lobby Lady looked around for back-up as if I were a nut-job. She found herself alone with me in a sea of bright, cheap polyester-cotton blends. She was nervous, but she continued walking towards me, smiling nervously. I in turn, walked towards her, but tripped on my own tired feet, and stumbled towards her, catching myself inches before our heads butted. This made me want to laugh, and so I did. So at that point I was disoriented, laughing, and trying not to laugh all at the same time. This combination has never worked well for me.
Hobby Lobby Lady: Uhh. Can I help you find something?
Hobby Lobby Lady was no longer smiling. She was looking at me with concern and possibly a little fear. I, however, was completely entertaining myself. I was laughing out loud for no apparent reason at that point.
Tamara (internal dialogue): Yes, you can help me. Thank you again for asking. As I said, I am a little disoriented. I was just positive that I knew where I was going but I must be confused. Maybe I am thinking of another store. Can you help me find the scrapbooking supplies?
Tamara (speaking audibly): Ha ha ha! Um. I thought... Hee hee heh! I’m looking. Hee hee heh! Sorry... Ha ha ha! Ummm…. Where am I?
Hobby Lobby Lady: Honey-- [She put her hand on my shoulder, reassuringly. She spoke very slowly, very loudly, and very clearly, as if I were deaf or special or just nuts.] You. Are at. The Hobby Lobby. In Austin, Texas. At the corner of I-35 and Parmer Lane. Are you alright?
Tamara (internal dialogue): Oh, GREAT. She thinks I’m an idiot.
At this point, I got it together enough to ask for the scrapbooking supplies but then I verbally vomited all over myself and the lady as I tried to explain and defend my confusion. I just could not. Stop. Talking. Ugh. She followed me from aisle to aisle while I made my selections and tried to help me. I think she was afraid I was going to steal something.
Hobby Lobby Lady: Oh, that’s nice. You’re doing a baby book? Oh. You have kids? Mmmm Hmmm. That’s nice. How about these? Aren’t these nice? Oh, honey, you’re going to make a NICE book.
Good grief. I just wanted out of there. I politely tucked my tail between my legs, grabbed a few doo-hickeys and some stickers and then had to stand in line for what seemed like an eternity. I left as quickly as I could and I haven’t been back. Obviously, I was not at the same Hobby Lobby I had previously scoped out. Theresa had given me directions to a more "convenient" location near her house.
Theresa buys most of my scrapbooking supplies for me now…
Several months ago, my friend Theresa took me to a gigantic Hobby Lobby to introduce me to the world of scrapbooking and scrapbooking supplies. If you have never been to one if these stores, let me tell you it is very overwhelming. There are aisles and aisles of crafty items that all look alike to my untrained eye. I paid attention to the layout of the store, knowing that I may have to return at some point without my friend. I memorized how to get to the scrapbooking section, where to pick up the paper, the stickers, all the little doo-dads.
A week or so later, I had to fly solo. I called Theresa en route to her house and got directions to Hobby Lobby. In the parking lot, I took a moment to recall the layout of the store that I had previously imprinted in my mind, and then went inside. The following mayhem ensued…
I entered and walked toward the scrapbooking section. But I looked up to find myself completely disoriented. Where were the scrapbooks? The paper? The cardstock? I was surrounded by reams of fabric and sewing notions.
I stood, mouth agape, in the midst of badly patterned polyester and faux taffeta. I looked right. I looked left. I looked at my list, as if that would help. I wrinkled my eyebrows and talked to myself too loudly. At some level, I realized that there was a logical explanation, but that is obviously not what I communicated to the outside world.
Tamara (internal dialogue): My, this is confusing. I was expecting the scrapbooking section to be here. I am certain this is the area where the scrapbooking section was the last time I was in this store.
Tamara (speaking audibly): Whah? This can’t be right. How’d? Where’d? Whah?
I continued looking around like an eejit until a very Southern Hobby Lobby lady resembling Mrs. Partridge approached me, concerned.
Hobby Lobby Lady: May I help you, honey?
Tamara (internal dialogue): Why, thank you. Yes, you certainly can help me. It seems that I am a little disoriented. I felt certain that the last time I was in this store, the scrapbooking section was exactly in this spot. But I must be confused. Can you point me to the scrapbooking section?
Tamara (speaking audibly): Ummm. Where is? I thought. Uhh. It was... I’m looking. Dhah… I just had a baby... Um. It was here... I was just… Last time... I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense.
Hobby Lobby Lady looked around for back-up as if I were a nut-job. She found herself alone with me in a sea of bright, cheap polyester-cotton blends. She was nervous, but she continued walking towards me, smiling nervously. I in turn, walked towards her, but tripped on my own tired feet, and stumbled towards her, catching myself inches before our heads butted. This made me want to laugh, and so I did. So at that point I was disoriented, laughing, and trying not to laugh all at the same time. This combination has never worked well for me.
Hobby Lobby Lady: Uhh. Can I help you find something?
Hobby Lobby Lady was no longer smiling. She was looking at me with concern and possibly a little fear. I, however, was completely entertaining myself. I was laughing out loud for no apparent reason at that point.
Tamara (internal dialogue): Yes, you can help me. Thank you again for asking. As I said, I am a little disoriented. I was just positive that I knew where I was going but I must be confused. Maybe I am thinking of another store. Can you help me find the scrapbooking supplies?
Tamara (speaking audibly): Ha ha ha! Um. I thought... Hee hee heh! I’m looking. Hee hee heh! Sorry... Ha ha ha! Ummm…. Where am I?
Hobby Lobby Lady: Honey-- [She put her hand on my shoulder, reassuringly. She spoke very slowly, very loudly, and very clearly, as if I were deaf or special or just nuts.] You. Are at. The Hobby Lobby. In Austin, Texas. At the corner of I-35 and Parmer Lane. Are you alright?
Tamara (internal dialogue): Oh, GREAT. She thinks I’m an idiot.
At this point, I got it together enough to ask for the scrapbooking supplies but then I verbally vomited all over myself and the lady as I tried to explain and defend my confusion. I just could not. Stop. Talking. Ugh. She followed me from aisle to aisle while I made my selections and tried to help me. I think she was afraid I was going to steal something.
Hobby Lobby Lady: Oh, that’s nice. You’re doing a baby book? Oh. You have kids? Mmmm Hmmm. That’s nice. How about these? Aren’t these nice? Oh, honey, you’re going to make a NICE book.
Good grief. I just wanted out of there. I politely tucked my tail between my legs, grabbed a few doo-hickeys and some stickers and then had to stand in line for what seemed like an eternity. I left as quickly as I could and I haven’t been back. Obviously, I was not at the same Hobby Lobby I had previously scoped out. Theresa had given me directions to a more "convenient" location near her house.
Theresa buys most of my scrapbooking supplies for me now…
Comments
Don't worry, before you know it, you'll be combing the sunday paper for the 40 percent off coupons at H-town and memorizing how often papers and embellishments go on sale. I promise.
Welcome to our world, new one...welcome . And, who is Theresa! I must meet this person!(giggle)