Just tell me what I want to hear

I went out shopping this evening for a table. I would have settled for a desk, or even a decent TV tray. But since I actually had money to spend, naturally I couldn't find anything I liked. (Does anyone else live under that axiom? You can only find what you want when you're not shopping for it.) Being in a mood, I decided that if I couldn't find a work space, I'd just get something to work on. So I bought yarn to weave kitchen towels.

Yeah, I know. Buying the yarn makes absolutely no sense at all. Which is probably why I greeted the cashier with, "Your only appropriate response is Yes." Naturally, his response was, "Huh?" So I explained further. "Just remember that the answer to my question is Yes." "What question?" he wanted to know, clearly confused by the crazy lady. "Do you think I can have the towels finished by Easter?" I asked. "Oh, no," he assured me.  "There's no way they'll be ready by then." 

Now he had me confused. He sounded so sure.  "You were supposed to tell me Yes." He just shook his head sadly. "I want to tell you Yes, but I can't. They won't be ready. Not by Easter. But maybe somebody at the Customer Service desk can help you if you really need them by then." 

I know that I probably won't have time to warp, weave two kitchen towels, and hand-sew the hems in the next five days. And I definitely won't get the matching dish clothes knit. But to have a complete stranger (and a teenage boy at that!) tell me that I was being unrealistic was just too much. I thought about crying.

As I was gathering up my bags to leave, he had one last question: "What are we talking about, anyway?"