“So which do you prefer?”
“don’t mind”
“The Green or the Blue?”
“Honestly, I don’t ca…er…couldn’t decide between them”
“but …”
“ok, the green. The green ones are better”
“oh. not the blue? I think I prefer the blue”
“well, get the blue then”
“but you liked the green”

Conversations of this ilk can continue ad infinitum or until a sulk ensues. Rarely do they end
well, particularly for me.

“I really really really honestly don’t care which pair you get. I’m a boy. They all just look like shoes”
“You COULD take an interest, you know”
“No, I could PRETEND to take an interest. They’d still just be shoes and I still wouldn’t care but I’d also be a charlatan and a fraud for pretending I did and would you really want that on your conscience? would you?”

The day-off-to-go-shopping was going pretty well, all things considered. Trip to Aria for most of a new PC, followed by a blood donation and a trip to Fopp to recover. Nothing eases the pain of a needle wound so much as an armful of cheap CDs. Maybe that’s why musicians sometimes end up as junkies.

The shoe selection crisis was navigated succesfully and we headed home.

“So which do you prefer?”
“The Green or the Blue?”
“I thought we did this already?”
“No, the eyeliner. Which eye looks better”