Shopping Trauma

This is a true story that I am just now able to tell.  I hope you enjoy it.

Last weekend Mark volunteered to watch the kids so I could go away for 2 nights.  Yep, you read that right.  Two days and two nights ALL BY MYSELF.  Now, this is quite certainly a rare event and cause for celebration.

Having heard great ravings over a particular clothing store, I drove all the way to an upscale mall in Maple Grove (on the outside of the Twin Cities) to check it out.  Being from the land of prairie, crops, and large families, entering the Cities and shopping malls is much like culture shock.  Well, I was enjoying myself window shopping and admiring the gorgeous ladies with high heels, leather coats, dyed hair, and fancy nails (none of which are practicle in my life).  I got up the courage to enter one of the shops and try on a couple things all the while trying to blend in.  

So, I take off my jeans (no, this will not be TMI for you) and start folding them so they are out of the way in the dressing room.  I look down at the bottom of my pants leg....and what do I see????  I could have died right then and there.  I had chicken poop on my leg.  Not just a little.  Not in a hidden spot.  The well-groomed ladies next to me laughing and having fun in their dressing room did not have chicken poop on their clothes.  Guaranteed.

My only saving grace is that I am sure the city folk did not know what chicken poop looked like.