The other day, Scott was hell-bent on buying me a present. I told him I didn't need anything (I know, I don't know where that came from, either). And that was true right up until the point I found two pair of vintage cowboy boots in a consignment store I just happened to be perusing a week later.
So remember when you wanted to buy me something? I found two pair of boots that I needed, so I bought them.
You don't need anymore cowboy boots, you already have four pair in your closet.
It's cute that he thinks I only have four. Especially since he walks by all thirteen pair several times a day. Attention to detail is not his strong point.
Neither, apparently, is counting.
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