What the fuck would Buddah do? Can you tell me?

We are looking at beds, new beds. I want a sleigh bed, cherry wood and my husband, well, who knows exactly what he wants. We found the perfect bed and I am so ready to get it but he says let’s shop around. I say there are not that many places to shop and he says yep, let’s go here and there and I say I need to go home and I go home, I don’t like to go here and there, I want to go one place, pick it out, pay the man or woman, give my address, and be done with it. It takes Mr. Zelda at least a week to complete his looking around and finally he will come back and buy the one that I said from the beginning. It’s too weird.

By the way, we have been looking at cars for about three months now and I just don’t see any speed in the process and if we don’t get a new one soon, he, Mr. Zelda, will be walking because he is driving my truck and I am driving my sister’s 90 year-old mother-in-law’s car that she drove around and around her house, forgetting how to stop until finally she ran it into the living room. It isn’t ruined and is fine, a one owner car with less than 50000 miles and it’s one of those huge cars from the mid 80s but, but, but, it’s huge and I want my little truck back. I want him to buy a car and let me have my truck so I can drive like and park with ease not from the end of a huge car that I cannot park except if there are no other cars on the street. See, I am getting upset, I have to think, WWBD, ahhh he would say, let us not fight but let us get a long and forget the cars and walk so as not to run over the little insects on the street and why do you need to pollute the air and he would be so right.

Maybe the bed thing is wrong and we should just sleep on a mat in the floor. Maybe.