Ceiling Count

And just what is a man supposed to do while waiting for his wife and daughter to purchase undergarments?

What started as a simple trip to the grocery store had morphed into a day of running errands. One of those errands being to make purchases to restock the smaller drawers in the bureaus throughout the house. 

For a man this involves grabbing a pack each of socks, briefs, and shirts. The mens stuff fits into forty square feet of a six hundred square foot Hanes store.  The rest of the store is given over to more variations of smallish..and not so smallish.. undergarments than I had ever imagined possible.

With my shopping completed in just under three minutes, I had twenty more minutes to kill until the women were done.  What to do?  The weather outside was frightful, but inside was not particularly delightful. There was no place to look that didn't leave me feeling like a voyuer. And no matter how slowly I shuffled around the store it seemed I kept bumping into the same women. Surely they would soon be calling 911.

Ultimately I settled for counting the tiles in the drop ceiling. Two hundred and twenty one, two hundred and twenty two...