message error

Ah Mother’s Day. Another Hallmark special day in which one must shower a specific person with gifts and/or love and affection. And for those significantly more cynical, a day to turn everything pink and specifically label every-day normal items ‘special’ or ‘perfect for blank’ in the hope of generating more money. I guess it is a nice day to give the person who gave birth to you a present, or make them feel special.

Meeting a friend for coffee at Southland gave me a chance to attempt to achieve my shopping missives – buy myself a new crunchy (as in the sound it makes when you sit or squish it between your hands) duvet (for brilliantly comfortable IKEA bed mentioned in previous post) and/or quilt cover set and doubly, purchase a gift (most likely slippers and/or chocolates) so my sister and I could spoil the mother figure on Sunday.

After thoroughly enjoying my catch up and long black (with a little bit of skinny) at Gloria Jeans (why yes, I am a low-brow commercialised coffee drinker), I set off to go shopping.

Locating the quilt, and deciding i would look rather uncoordinated lugging it everywhere else, i decide it is probably wise to get it last. In Target though, I meet my match. The initial slippers I had been advised to get (something boot-ish) are nowhere to be seen.

Sending a picture to my sister with the only options (pink fluffy things or old-lady slippers) proves less than fruitful as my phone battery starts to die due to the fact that Target in Southland, Cheltenham, is actually the high country (thank you, 3mobile, now I know why this ‘Vodafail’ video is oh-so-accurate (and hilarious)).

I get no reply. Calling her she tells me she doesn’t know what we should get as the slippers are ‘weird looking’. Hanging up, she tells me she’ll have another look at my grainy photo.

I continue to stress out over what to do and decide to walk to the sheets section to contemplate the quilt cover sets. The prices shock me – they are significantly more expensive than what I initially thought they were going to be. Argh!

‘Eh, do you think I should get a quilt cover set for $100?’, I message my mother, as roaming finally kicks in. ‘That expensive!’ she replies, apparently just as amazed as I am. ‘I know eh, maybe I’ll have to come back tomorrow for a proper look’

My sister’s reply to another of my frantic message comes in ‘they’re a bit ugly! But maybe we can wrap some of those Darrell Lea caramel snow bars or something in them or something’. Ok decision made.

I stand in the long line at Target along with lots of men and their bratty little kids and purchase the ‘bit ugly’ soft pink fluffy (but ‘Mum will love these stay-in slippers!’) slippers and continue my journey. There is a rather decent crowd there too and, straining to see behind more men and their offspring (and actually a few other females), I am unable to spot any caramel snow bars. Spanner in the works. Normal chocolate or black liquorice (gross) doesn’t really suffice as my mother is having her own coffee in the city with friends and will undoubtedly buy her own stash. Argh!

I quickly get out my phone and type a message: ‘there are no caramel snow bars! Should I get fancier chocolates than Darrell Lea?’, intending on making a stop at that Planet Chocolate place two levels up.

My arms are getting sore – despite not buying a quilt cover set, I am in possession of my brilliant new crunchy duvet and despite being unbelievably crunchy, it is also rather heavy.

Continually checking my phone (now properly connected to the 3network) for an answer and nothing appearing I am fed up. Damn her for not replying! Executive decision – Planet Chocolate it is.

I select a few of the fancier chocolates in weird shapes and flavours, make my way uncoordinatedly carrying all my purchases up the escalator, and head towards the car park.

Stepping outside into the cold air I feel my phone vibrate.

‘Was this meant for me or your sister?’

What the hell, I think – why on earth would I be messaging my sister about quilt cover sets?

The realisation hits me like a giant crunchy duvet in the face. Checking my sent box only confirms my messaging disaster.


Oh Amanda, you are SUCH an idiot. Who knew you could be so smart?

Happy Mother’s Day.


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May 2011
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