The Search for a Slip Ends...

or: "My Mom Rocks"

After a fruitless journey last Saturday to find a full slip, I thought of a couple more places I could look. So I set out again on Sunday, determined still to find one. But I actually forgot to stop at Sears and came home only with the few things on my grocery list. (Does that count as a Freudian slip? Ha!) Clearly my memory—or lack of—was protecting me from another day of frustration. One wasted weekend day was enough.

Monday after work I resumed my quest. First I went to Cohoes (well, Burlington Coat Factory), but that was a bust. From there I remembered to stop at Sears, and they had a few, but again none were the right size and color combination. Finally, I went back to Macy’s and reluctantly bought one for thirty dollars. I suppose I wouldn’t have minded paying that much if it was perfect, but it wasn’t. It could have been a size bigger and an inch longer. Still, at least I actually had a full slip to wear with my new dresses. No cling for me, ladies. I was set. Sort of.

Then the slip sat in the bag, with the tags still on it, for a couple of days.

And then, I called my mom.

Duh.

I know. That’s where I should have started my search, because that’s where it ended. Well, actually it ended at Macy’s a couple of hours ago when I went to return the slip I bought under duress. But yeah, she had two for me to choose from. (Of course she did. She also just bought an extra coffee urn/”party perk” at a tag sale for 2 dollars. Not that my slip came from a tag sale or anything. Anyway.) The one I picked fits perfectly and was free.

I’ll never get that time back, but I did get my money back. And I was reminded that sometimes, there’s no place like mom’s.