So I also bought nice ties. I went to the store and browsed the tie racks. So many colors. Some of them are shiny, some more flat. Too many with patterns, I don’t want a tie with patterns, that’s not me. As I looked at the ties I started running my dress shirts through my head. Would this go with that? Should I spend this much on a tie that will only really work with one shirt?
Then I found one. A Great Tie. A deep red with a slight sheen. Would be great with the black and dark-colored shirts I have, and I could probably make it work with one or two others. It needs a tie tack. Tie tacks look nice. Here’s a good one. I excitedly took my finds to the cash register who rung me up. I’m going to look brilliant. Won’t the boss be impressed with my tie.
It wasn’t until I got in the car that I realized what I’d done. I’d gotten excited about buying a tie. Unironically, unself-consciously, totally honestly excited about buying a tie. My heart sank. I never was cool, but this is different. This isn’t even metal. In my head I pictured what was happening in my house. I knew it had to be true. As I was buying the tie, as I was excitedly picking it out and whipping out my wallet, someone was breaking into my room. A shadowy figure. Its hand reaches out, grazing my wall of CDs, searching. Searching. I swipe my debit card and the hand finds what it’s looking for. A Pantera CD. The live album, one of the best live recordings ever. So brutal. The hand removes the CD and I grab the bag with my newly purchased tie. And as I turn to walk away from the counter the hand puts new music in place of my Pantera CD. It would be there, waiting for me when I got home. Mocking me. A Best of Sting album.Nooooooooooooooooooooo!