Bartender, I'll have what Sailor here is havingBDPalace: First off, I want to thank you. I'm out of town on business--PHX, which ain't my first choice on any list of three, and second, I've had a couple business drinks , and third, there's a touch of Wodehouse in your lingo, which I'm re-reading to get over second item. You hit the spot.
At the risk of offending the distaff crew or any others who possess that greater knowledge of the fabrician arts, which knowledge I glumly suppose is similar to clothes shopping, baby paraphernalia purchasing and expeditions to Michael's Arts and Crafts, I feel your pain going to a JoAnns. The fact that my first wife's name was JoAnn has nothing to do with it. Its just that thought of walking into a fabric store.
I did it one time...years ago, when I was younger, less worldly, foolish some would say, and certainly not up to the task at hand, which was simply to buy a little thread to sew a hole in a ... well, the point being, women from all side, high and low, looking around bolts and buttons, hanging upside down, peering around stuffings and pillows and who knows what, these women all looked at me as if I were, well frankly, a woodsman in a china shop. Like they'd never seen such a curiosity. I might be wrong, but I sensed more red lipstick near at hand than I'm used too. And too many questions about threads and needles and bobbins and thimbles and baskets and "where's your wife now" and how proud they were of me and times are changing.
Only the internet for me these days, or Jermyn St., where Mr. Hoskinson doesn't ask too many questions and is always discreet.