"We should stop at the front office, because the book I got you arrived."
"Actually, I mistakenly ruined the surprise by clicking on the wrong option for my Amazon Wishlist, so I found out what you got me. But I've since forgotten what it was, so I can be surprised all over again."
"That's what I like about you—you're so old that you can't remember anything."

Or something like that. The conversation was a day and a half ago, and I don't remember the precise wording. (The book was "Suite Francaise." It's frightening how many of my consumer decisions are dictated by the Marginal Revolution blog.)

Through my amazing Google-fu, Slim and I found the one store in Clerksville that sells sophisticated boardgames, and purchased "Railroad Tycoon - The Boardgame," a gigantic sprawling thing that is a blast to play. And unlike so many complex boardgames, it works with just two players, not needing the presence or dynamics of three or four to succeed—though it looks like it would be even more fun with a larger group. The store itself was precisely what you would imagine a store that's open until midnight on Fridays for Magic tournaments would look like. But all activity stopped for the five minutes Slim was there in her backless summer dress.