Shopping

Do you ever have those days when something you set out to do just doesn't work? I went to the mall this afternoon. I had a coupon for twenty-five percent off a Christmas wreath, garland or tree. It expired today, and since my collection of Christmas decorations is in embryonic stage, I figured I was obliged to go. I drove around for ten minutes just looking for a parking spot. I read an article once by a man who believed in the "3 strikes" rule. This was specifically in the context of running. So if, starting out he forgot to grab his gloves on the way out the door, that might be strike one. Second strike might be slipping on the ice on the front stairs. Third strike would be discovering his ipod was out of juice. After strike three, he said if he didn't just go back home he would live to regret it.You get the idea. The outrageously crowded parking lot should have been strike one.

As I walked into the store, decked out in holiday gore... I mean galore (of course), I started checking price tags. I have a hard time thinking clearly in stores. The barrage of images, sounds and smells is a veritable assault on the senses. On top of that, I must be allergic to shopping. I'm not joking. I spend a few minutes in a mall and my eyes start to water and my nose starts to run.This has only made me mistrust my judgment when shopping. I have to give myself plenty of time, I try not to react on impulse. And I never risk getting surprises at the register. So, after finding a wreath in metallic silver and golds that was sufficiently less kitchey than seemingly everything else in the store, I stood there, figuring out exactly how much twenty-five percent off would come to at the register. Standing still in a store is not common, have you noticed that, dear reader? One is not encouraged to stand still when shopping. One gets in the way. And if one cannot stand still, one has a much more difficult time thinking. One is not, therefore, encouraged to think. This is what all the images, the music and the smells are meant to do... keep you moving, keep you distracted, and of course buy more. I finally figured out how much that pretty wreath would be, and, thinking it was too much, I set it back in it's place. As I moved on, the Christmas music (I love Christmas music, but in a commercial setting it absolutely sets my teeth on edge), made me more and more irritable, and before too long I realized that no price would possibly be low enough. Strike two.

At this point, instead of using my good sense, and going home, I walked out into the mall. I wandered into a clothing store that looked promising. If I thought the Christmas music was bad, the music blaring here was far worse with pounding bass, persistently whining treble and completely inane lyrics. I could find nothing whatsoever that looked interesting. Strike three? I found myself instead watching everyone else there with a morbid sort of curiosity. I wondered about an employee, a young man, who seemed way too enthusiastic about hanging up delicate pink cardigans. On my way out, I saw a young woman, I assumed she was also an employee, carrying in the naked bottom half of a female mannequin. The sight was so bizarre and it fit perfectly with my mood.

On the drive home I couldn't help but laugh at myself. What on earth was I expecting? If I didn't want to spend any money, why did I go in the first place? I'll never know. But this I do know, dear reader: Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat. And my inner scrooge will have to put to rest for a time... as for this afternoon, alas, it got the best of me.

Love,
The Professor's Wife