Irene had had a
fabulous time in France, thank you for asking. It had been entirely too long since she'd visited Paris on her own time, the pastoral
everything else had actually caught her interest more than she would have figured, and -- that was it. Those were the things she'd liked about the trip.
Food was good too, she supposed. And it was nice to stock up on perfume and shoes, while she was over there. Shopping always soothed her spirit.
(And the room party, and the wedding, but Irene felt like if she
dwelled on what she had liked about
those things, she might somehow sabotage it or -- you know. Accidentally send fifty-seven unsolicited texts, or something.)
So, anyway. Back to the grind, as it were. And the grind, in this case, was the business of making sure that anyone who
really loved this time of year was...well-
equipped to
really love this time of year.
Enter at your own risk -- the display at the front of the store is...thematic, once more.
[I don't have to tell you those links are NSFW, do I? open!]