My mother has long suffered from an intense need for retail therapy in the form of buying clothing. When my brother and I finally moved out of the house, she claimed our closets for portions of her seasonally-rotating wardrobe. Later she added clothing racks in the basement for the overflow.

Much of this excess (she’d call it “need”) was enabled by an enterprising saleslady at the local Nordstrom store. She knew my mother’s taste, so when right stuff came into stock, she’d call the house, describe it, and mom would tell her to ring it up. I suppose that if mom had decided she didn’t like the items, or that they didn’t fit, she could have returned the goods later, but I don’t ever recall her returning a damn thing.

Apparently the apple does not fall far from the tree in the Robbins family.

I was on the couch Sunday afternoon, having finished some writing and chores, and getting ready to Netflix and chill, when my phone blew up with a ring from the infamous Lin Bell of Fishing Pro Tech in Toano, Virginia. If you have not met Lin – or, better yet, visited his overflowing shop of goodness – I can assure you that you will find no more passionate purveyor of tackle on earth. He lives and breathes it, and is incredibly giving of his time. Furthermore, he appears to be clairvoyant, because when he called I was writing up a list of gear that I wanted – check that, needed – to purchase in the coming weeks. My order arrived on Wednesday morning, with plenty of time to spare before my next trip this weekend.

It’s not a good thing to admit that your first response to unsolicited calls from retailers is to get out your credit card and start naming hard-to-find swimbaits (especially when you know that the retailer has an unbelievable selection in stock), but if that’s my greatest weakness in life, I can live with that. I hope that Lin doesn’t go too long between calls.