“I can afford to shop at WalMart, but I choose to shop at Big Lots.”
My husband said that. And he was being serious. (Remember, ladies, thou shalt not covet. Sorry to make you stumble, but this sugar daddy is mine all mine.) Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “What does ‘Summer Luxury’ have to do with shopping at WalMart or Big Lots?”
Actually, the quote is tangential, as you’ll soon discover. Unless, of course, you keep inserting your thoughts and slowing things down.
This post has nothing to do with WalMart or Big Lots. It’s about Payless Shoes. Or at least it starts there. But, if you’re like me, when you consider sharing a story that begins at a Payless store, your brain gloms onto the first, self-amusing, semi-related thing that dares venture too close to consciousness. I mean, is it just me, or is the phrase “I can afford to shop at WalMart” hilarious?
Maybe it’s just me. Anyway, I needed some new flip-flops, so I hopped in the car and headed to Payless. The first thing I noticed when I stepped through the door was that the inside temperature was hotter than the outside temperature. That’s probably a good thing if you live in Alaska, but I live in Texas, where the heat index camps in triple digits and the humidity is 247%. The sweet lady who worked there told me the AC was out and apologized for the inconvenience. She was managing to survive by standing in front of a fan and drinking her weight in water. I had no fan or water, but I needed flip-flops, and everyone knows no price is too high to pay for fashion.
You common folk may not understand, but people whose husbands can afford to shop at WalMart tend to be picky about their footwear. I was in The Payless from Hades for a good thirty minutes before I made my selection, and by the time I left, I was definitely “glowing.” (That’s the term Southerners use to describe a woman who is sweating like a pig). This called for drastic measures, and I knew exactly what I needed to put me out of my misery. Happy Hour.
Sonic Strawberry Limeade is summer beverage perfection. The ice is perfect. The fizzy sweet-tartness is perfect. The juicy bits of strawberry that sneak up the straw to surprise your taste buds are perfect. The ice is perfect. The fresh lime wedge and strawberry chunks left in the bottom of the cup are perfect. And did I mention the ice? It’s the perfect size, the perfect shape, and the perfect softness for ADA-approved crunching. It’s the ice all other ice dreams of becoming but never will. Sonic Strawberry Limeade is a delectable treat from the first sip to the last bits of berry you scrape off the side of the cup with your straw, if you’re unladylike enough to do that sort of thing. A finger works, too.
Better still, it’s half price from 2:00 to 4:00 PM. Happy Hour indeed! For one dollah and nine cent you can purchase a 16 oz mini-vacation in beverage heaven. So, what are you waiting for? By my clock, you still have ten minutes to get there.
Of course, you should probably bring extra for a tip. I paid the little lady who brought me mine a buck fifty and told her to keep the change, brushing aside her thanks.
Hey, no biggie, sweetheart. My husband can afford to shop at WalMart.