NotSheep

I completely forgot to blog what happened on Friday afternoon - not that it was very exciting or anything, but then most of what I wrote about last week wasn’t very exciting anyway, so I might as well put it in

Scratchy had the afternoon off because Toby had a speech therapy appointment. The SALT was able to get a bit more of an idea than she did last time, because last time he slept through the appointment I took Barney with me, figuring Toby would sit and play with him instead of being all aware of how the SALT was watching him, and it worked well. She gave us some games we can play with him to encourage him to make sounds, and said she’d review again in November.

Afterwards we went to look at those boxes that keep things cold - I’m almost afraid to write the word now, I’ve gone on about it so long. We went into one shop where a salesperson - no, I won’t call him that. Where a male about 19 years old who thought he was a salesperson tried to… hm, well I’m not really sure what he was trying to do. It didn’t look much like selling anything. We should have realised when we saw his name-tag; who uses the name “Deano” professionally? He did show us a few you-know-whats, then, without asking anything about our needs, he said, “Is it really worth all that just to live the American lifestyle?” Well, uh, I’m not trying to live the American lifestyle, I’m just trying to buy a you-know-what that’s big enough to feed a family with five growing sons without buying groceries every day. His next question was “Are you into all that saving the earth stuff?” He then told us a long story about how one particular electronics manufacturer is better than all the others when it comes to the environment; apparently they’ve got a factory run completely on solar power or something. All of which might have been interesting if that particular manufacturer actually made you-know-whats, but they don’t

Just when we thought he couldn’t get any worse, he said, “I’ll tell you what.” - we didn’t realise immediately, but his “what” was a great big load of rubbish. “Here I am,” he said, “Nineteen years old, good job, beautiful girlfriend, love her and all, and I’m going to jack it all in to go with my mate to Glasgow and sleep on a floor.”

Er, right… I did try to suggest that we weren’t actually that bothered by saying “I’m struggling to see what this has to do with us buying a fridge” - but he didn’t take the hint, oh no, he told us all about his plans and asked our opinion.

After all that I’d have bought almost any you-know-what from any shop, just to ensure I didn’t have to go back and deal with him again. It’s lucky Scratchy was there, really, because who’d believe me if I hadn’t had a witness?

We did sort of decide on what we were going to buy, but, well, y’know, it’s not the first time…