There’s not a World Market in our little Alabama town, so everytime my husband and I are on the road and pass one, we have to stop and go in. The thing about World Markets is that there’s plenty for both of us to happily browse through. First, we both head to the food section in the back, where my husband gets tickled by the huge nostalgic candy inventory and I investigate the gourmet junk food — are we healthy or what? We linger in the beer aisle and I check out the coffees and teas while he surfs the fiery southwestern choices. After that, my husband eyes the furniture and I ooh and ahh over accessories such as pillows, curtains and candleholders. In truth, his attention starts to wander while I’m still dragging him over to check out this rug or that coffee maker but he’s a good sport and tries to stay focused long enough to veto the paisley-print sheets and the orange batik lampshade. My fantasy is to walk into World Market, tell the clerks, “I’ll take two of everything,” and then live in global bliss ever after. And I’m absolutely sure my dear husband feels the same way.