No. Really. My Husband Is Not Indigent.

Well, my goal to buy all my clothes in a second-hand store for 2013, ended today when I couldn’t find a decent style or brand of newish jeans. So, on the way home from the thrift store, I asked my husband to stop at the Gap.

Since I was just going to run into one store, my husband said he was going to Starbucks to get a cup of coffee, and then he would meet me at the car.

Later, when I returned to the car, my husband told me, in a surprised and hurt tone, about how the Starbucks clerk offered him some free food with his coffee. Apparently, the Barista took one look at my hubs and thought he was homeless.

And for the first time all day, I turned to take a good look at my husband: he was unshaven; in a black knit NorthFace burglar hat, with leaves stuck on it; his jeans were two-sizes-too big, faded-out and ripped; he had on dirty, beat up tennis shoes; and he was wearing his favorite twenty-year-old, worn-thin-and-holey, stained-but-clean USC sweat shirt. Yes, my hubs definitely looked homeless. Even while wearing his two hundred dollar sunglasses.

Love is blind.

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