I learned a valuable life lesson today.

Bucolic The Dalles, Oregon is a hot-bed of bizarre activities on Cherry Blossom Festival Day.

I thought I would pop over after work and get a little shopping done. Richard’s birthday present isn’t going to buy itself, you know! (It really isn’t. That plan backfired on me last Wednesday.) Every other time I have been to The Dalles, it has been staid and orderly. But this time there were skateboarders, unicyclists, runners, clowns jumping out of a Google van, poodles on leashes, a craft fair in the parking lot, families camped out in said parking lot, a narcoleptic cat parade, bassoonists and other forms of general pandemonium. For the average motorist, it was a nightmare.

Fortunately, I had a plan. I was going to stop at some store and wander around until something jumped out at me and screamed, “Richard doesn’t own this, and he won’t hate it.” Shopping is so much easier when you have a definitive strategy.

The roads were bad and the parking lots worse. But the stores were remarkably empty, with staff that was very helpful. I got a present lickity-split and was out of that store faster than greased lightning. And there was Richard, driving by in his car. He almost ran me over, but I don’t think he ever saw me. So his gift may still be a surprise. (I know it will be for me. I’ve wrapped it already, and don’t remember what it is.) I am so thoughtful, aren’t I?