A Man’s Nightmare
There are many things I despise and I must admit that top of the list is shopping. Worst is shopping for the missus and or, with the missus. Yes, I said it, I hate it. I always tried to avoid it but lately I have found it increasingly difficult to escape especially now with the little girls around. I am convinced women are indeed born with a special gift – shopping. This talent starts off at an early age, passed on for generations. I recently travelled to the UK, work related, not for holiday, not for shopping, just work. When I settled at my hotel, I called to check on the ladies. It was difficult to get through to the missus because she has decided to give up WhatsApp for lent. Don’t even get me started on this because I find it entirely ridiculous. Of all the things she could have chosen to give up, she gave up WhatsApp. I almost suggested that she gives up buying shoes (I see a new pair every week) but I want to live to see my grandkids. Anyway, to each their own. So what was I saying? Yea, getting through to the missus was a mission so I had to call the nanny via WhatsApp to speak to the kids.
“Hi Daddy, what have you bought for me?” Not even a quick check up to hear how I was doing.
“I miss you too daddy but what have you bought for me?”
“What do you want sweetheart” I responded.
“I want a remote-control aeroplane (I thought these were boy toys but perhaps she wants to be an aeronautical engineer -atta girl) and a dress.”
“Ok sweetheart I will. And how is Xia doing?”
“She is fine Daddy. When are you coming?”
“On Sunday.” I responded.
“Is Sunday tomorrow?” I could hear the anxiety in her voice from miles away.
“No sweetheart. In the next six days.”
Mid-week in London, on one of the evenings, it was freezing cold and I was eager to get to bed. I was tired having spent the better part of the evening after work shopping for the ladies. I had been promptly reminded by the missus (she actually called and didn’t care that roaming was expensive) that she needed office dresses (not a dress, DRESSES) and that Xena needed a soccer kit and soccer boots and Xia, well, just buy her something nice. I had followed these instructions to the letter and was super proud of myself. As I was settling to sleep, I heard a knock on my door.
“I don’t recall ordering for room service.” I thought to myself.
I walked to the door and there was a gentleman standing with a huge box at my doorstep. Turned out the missus shopped for a Nutri Ninja blender online whose package was half the size of my travel bag. How on earth was I supposed to get this bloody consignment home? How was I supposed to get this past customs at the airport? Clearly, this was the least of the missus’ worries. More packages streamed in for the rest of the week, three night shirts, running socks, head bands and a book. Oh, and two bottles of shampoo for the missus friend.
I checked out of the hotel on Saturday with two suitcases filled to the brim and the food processor. My cousin picked me up as I was spending the last night at his place. Together, we tried to figure out the modalities around transporting the monstrous gadget to Kenya. We figured we could get another suitcase for it, so we set on a mission to buy a travel bag. At 8;30pm, we drove around Northfield in West London but no shops were open and it was freezing cold. My cousin decided to post on Facebook that anybody in Northfield who wished to dispose a suitcase would save a life. A few minutes later, a response came in. Some lady was happy of get rid of her suitcase. We drove to her house and voila – a free suitcase. We should have such neighbourhood groups in Kenya.
On Sunday as I was getting ready to leave, I was still getting more requests from the missus. I wanted to just switch off my phone and stay in London for another week and play golf. Mac lipstick, Mac Foundation, Mac Powder, Mac this and that.
“You’ll get them for cheap at Heathrow.” She said.
By the way, walking into a Mac store always gives me the shivers. Inside the airport, I get to the Duty-Free section 15 minutes to gates closing. I dash to the Mac store and show one of the lady the pictures of the requested products on my phone. She gets everything besides one item, the powder.
While boarding, I call my wife and explain that I got everything besides the powder and she says “But that’s the most crucial item, you should have called while at the store I suggest something in its place.”
At this point, I regret making the effort. I should have just ignored the request and broke the news when I landed that I was late for my flight and I did not manage to shop at the airport.
Thankfully, I will get home at midnight when everyone will be asleep. I am scared for my life because besides not getting the compact powder, I did not manage to get Xena the remote control plane. I bought the hand-held glider. I am not sure I will survive Monday morning. Say a prayer for me.