When we go out each morning, R asks me if I have every thing. Wallet, phone, keys, transitional glasses. It used to be have you got your spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch.
He never reminds me to take my shotgun when we go out for brunch or shopping. It strikes me that by the time the woman who feels so threatened she needs to use her shotgun, and could she actually get it into a firing position, she would be deaded by a quick shooter. She needs a pistol type gun on her hip for a quick draw. Is by the colours the store a Walmart?