I did battle with myself yesterday.

Actually, I did battle with myself for most of this past week.

And the battle I did this past week reminded me quite much of a certain battle I did some years ago.

That battle of years ago was the result of a snap decision that was made some 500 yards away from a material/gift shop I was nearing.

“A novel idea,” I thought.  “I’ll pull right in here and buy my wife a piece of material to sew herself a dress with.”

As I neared the front door, I felt a strong sense of trepidation.  I seemed to have felt this feeling before, not unlike when one is called to account where all the odds are stacked up against them.

But I marched onward in my mission, only realizing that once I was inside the door, the sweat was already trickling down my face, although it was a rather mild day. 

I stared unseeingly, as a face of one who worked there swirled into my vision and became vaguely recognizable.

“How can I help you?” she asked, kindly.  Although at the time I felt so threatened I wasn’t so sure what I perceived as a friendly lilt in her voice was actually a mostly suppressed laugh.

“Uh, I—I’ll just look around a bit and if I need something I’ll holler.” 

“Sure.  What are you looking for?  I can get you in the general area at least.”

She knew a lost soul when she saw one, that’s for sure.

“I’m thinking of buying a piece of fabric for my wife.”

The agony was growing on me, and I made haste to make my selection, having perspired enough to need several large Mountain Dew’s to replenish all lost fluids.

I took what seemed to be a ravishing light blue to the counter, whereupon I was met with a new dilemma.

“How many yards would you like?” she asked.

I had horror memories of a story I read of how this dude was trying to buy gloves for his sister for Christmas and the clerk wanted him to feel her hand to see if it was the same size as his sisters.  Of course, that clerk was spiteful; I hoped this one wasn’t.

But she did ask me if my wife was the same size as her or one of the other ladies working there. 

The sweat began to make dripping sounds as it hit the floor.

I squenched my way out of there and dried off as much as I could before I presented my offering made by extreme sacrifice to my wife. 

She was dutifully kind and considerate with her remarks.

*****

And so, this last week, I had this little idea, but that little idea immediately put me in a storm.

Because, you see, it called back to mind with startling clarity the above scenario.

My sweet daughter told me about some shower soap she really liked for guys to use.

Since I’m the impressionable type, and since she often impresses me, sometimes for money, and sometimes for other things, I secretly took heed to what she said.

My first impression, before I heard the rest of the story, is that special shower soap is for wussies. 

But then she said the name of it, and I thought, “That name doesn’t sound too bad.”

So, I secretly looked it up and ordered some online.

Now, I like that soap.  And I thought to myself it might do for something I could slip to a couple guys for Christmas, provided I could go about it in a manly enough way. 

But the catch 22 here, was that I couldn’t get any ordered online in time, although there did happen to be a Bath and Body works store nearby. 

And the battle commenced.

I did not want to be caught in that store in person. 

I pretty much had the whole thing argued down and wasn’t going to do it, when it so happened that I was in town with my brother-in-law, and he needed to stop at the mall.

I made a similar snap decision as I had years ago and flashed into that store while he was a long way away.

But agony fell upon me again.  The wife of a coworker of mine, both whom I hadn’t seen in years, was in the store.

She recognized me and called out a cheery hello.  Or was this another case of a squelched laugh?

I manned up and told her hello, but I made her promise not to tell her husband where she saw me.

I made my exit, again feeling a desperate need for Mountain Dew.

Surprisingly, as I tossed the hard-won prize to my brother-in-law, he said, “Bath and Body!  I like the stuff from there!”

And for some reason, my boys were acting like they wanted some of that stuff. 

It sort of recompensed all the warfare involved, although not the Mountain Dew expense account.