We're not in Kansas anymore

Ron and I were walking through a local mall recently, and we decided to check out the larger of two dollar stores.  I led the way and headed right.  As we turned down the first aisle Ron exclaimed, "We're in the paddle section."

I looked up and saw an assortment of wooden spoons, spatulas, whisks and other pervertables. We were indeed in the paddle section.

"This used to be where the party supplies were," I protested.  "They must have reorganized the store.  Isn't it funny how I was attracted to this particular aisle?"

"Very funny."

I passed two bins holding long, slender sticks in various bright colors. "Look, canes!"

My husband looked, then looked again. Above the canes were an assortment of brush heads. "Those are broom handles."

We kept browsing, and I found the spanko bracelets that I've told you about. Ron laughed when I explained that I wanted them for my blog. There was a time when he would never have mentioned paddles, canes, or anything remotely related to spanking, in a store, at home, or anywhere. Now his spanko senses have been honed nearly as fine as mine.