Jim just doesn’t understand that it’s not my fault that I like to return things. It was bred into me. My mom is the supreme, expert returner. She’ll return anything. She even returned the paint that she painted her house with FIVE YEARS AGO. And trust me, she’ll get her money back. She may have to throw a fit in front of the store manager, but she’ll get her money back. As a kid, I remember groaning when I heard the words, “Let me talk to your manager.”

I’ve been known to return a thing or two myself. Jim thinks I like it, but I just want to make sure that I’m happy with my purchase. Sometimes you just need to get an item home before you know if you want it or not. When we celebrate my birthday week (don’t I have him trained so well?) one of my presents is always something that I can return. He searches for the ugliest item of clothing in the store and then wraps it up with the receipt. I can’t convince him that I don’t return for the thrill.

So, basically, Eden has no hope. The curse of the returner is just too hard to break. Today she was looking through an avon catalogue (she doesn’t understand why I have so many “books”) when she came upon a CareBears bed set. She told me that she wants to take her bed back to the store and get the bear bed instead. But really, what should Jim expect? There really is NO hope.