Yes, it's a Sunday afternoon here in the Great White.
Today, my friends, Scrub must forage. No, not for moose and other varmints for eatin'. No. Foraging today is all about them little lights that Scrub has to put up next week to adorn the igloo for the Christmas holiday season.
Sadly - the last set of lights the ol boy had have died. It was a slow, painful, dim death - but there ya have it. Gone.
So - it's off to the local trading post to see what kinda deals Scrub can score.
And, as ya'll know, Scrub don't much like payin full price for things. It's gotta be on sale and it's gotta be a deal. If it ain't - then Scrub don't buy. Simple as that.
This, of course, has the Wife slightly alarmed. The Wife knows that what will come home could be potentially anything - depending on what's on sale and what is a deal.
She wants to come with me.
That is dangerous. See... Scrub's a pushover when it comes to his darlin' lovie-boo. If she pours on the eyes and uses that voice of hers in just the right way... Scrub can be convinced to buy damn'd near anything. It's not that I dont want her to come. Heavens no. It's just that when Scrub's alone - it's much easier to scope out the good sales. Shop comparatively. Make sound deal-gettin' decisions. Ya know?
There is, of course, a solution to this dilemma. This dilemma of sharing in the joy of selecting pretty twinkly lights that are one of the hallmarks of the Christmas season for us here at the Scrub Shack. The dilemma marrying our desire to have these pretty things shining their happy goodness on glistening new fallen snow - casting auras of green and blue and red across the tundra and of doing all of this while being attentive to pricing and cautious with pennies.
Yes, there is a solution to this dilemma.
Scrub's gonna sneak out and not tell anyone he's going.