I missed writing my blog last night. By the time I got home, it was after 9 pm, and I just didn't have anything in me. The thought of making my fingers work the keys on my trusty red Dell laptop to offer witty words of wisdom made me want to crawl in a hole and get in the smallest possible fetal position.
I had just gotten home from taking my mom to her favorite place to shop...that huge cavernous one stop building that houses anything you could possibly want and then some. This is the place that used to boast that it sold all things American made. Now, shoppers are hard pressed to find anything made in America.
This is the place where children are allowed to run around as if they are outside on a playground. This is the place where children are allowed to scream like banshees and pitch fits without any form of discipline. Parents seem to forget all parenting skills the minute they walk through the automatic doors. I fully expect kids to start running around in tribal regalia like the kids in "Lord of the Flies."
This is the place where people dress so outlandishly that they don't care if their butt cracks show when they bend over or their boobs hang out all the way to their navels. It makes me want to do a heebie jeebie dance.
This is the place when people get into public arguments, especially couples, and they don't care who's listening. They argue at the meat counter, clothes department, sporting goods, paper products...it doesn't matter, somebody is mad at somebody else. And they don't care if everyone in the store knows it. This is classless folks, classless.
This place is like describing Hell, and if I believed in Hell, it would be a place like this.
Truth be told, I do shop there for my house hold items which are generally less expensive, but the Dollar Store is less expensive, too, and I think it's less hellish. I haven't been to a Dollar Store super store, though.
My mom likes to shop there, though. I think it brings her fond memories of my dad. He liked the store a lot, and they shopped there often. They were married 67 years before he passed away, so when we go, I picture myself as a character in "Game of Thrones", and gird my loins as if I'm preparing for battle. In truth, Mom still drives and shops on her own sometimes, but she'd rather have company, and I can't blame her for that.
Mom always made sacrifices for me so I will make the supreme sacrifice of accompanying her to that store. It's the least I can do.
Besides, when I finally get to leave it, I feel a sense of accomplishment because I left the store alive although the "tick" in my right eye tends to stay for a good hour or two.
I had just gotten home from taking my mom to her favorite place to shop...that huge cavernous one stop building that houses anything you could possibly want and then some. This is the place that used to boast that it sold all things American made. Now, shoppers are hard pressed to find anything made in America.
This is the place where children are allowed to run around as if they are outside on a playground. This is the place where children are allowed to scream like banshees and pitch fits without any form of discipline. Parents seem to forget all parenting skills the minute they walk through the automatic doors. I fully expect kids to start running around in tribal regalia like the kids in "Lord of the Flies."
This is the place where people dress so outlandishly that they don't care if their butt cracks show when they bend over or their boobs hang out all the way to their navels. It makes me want to do a heebie jeebie dance.
This is the place when people get into public arguments, especially couples, and they don't care who's listening. They argue at the meat counter, clothes department, sporting goods, paper products...it doesn't matter, somebody is mad at somebody else. And they don't care if everyone in the store knows it. This is classless folks, classless.
This place is like describing Hell, and if I believed in Hell, it would be a place like this.
Truth be told, I do shop there for my house hold items which are generally less expensive, but the Dollar Store is less expensive, too, and I think it's less hellish. I haven't been to a Dollar Store super store, though.
My mom likes to shop there, though. I think it brings her fond memories of my dad. He liked the store a lot, and they shopped there often. They were married 67 years before he passed away, so when we go, I picture myself as a character in "Game of Thrones", and gird my loins as if I'm preparing for battle. In truth, Mom still drives and shops on her own sometimes, but she'd rather have company, and I can't blame her for that.
Mom always made sacrifices for me so I will make the supreme sacrifice of accompanying her to that store. It's the least I can do.
Besides, when I finally get to leave it, I feel a sense of accomplishment because I left the store alive although the "tick" in my right eye tends to stay for a good hour or two.
2 comments:
I make it my business to never shop there and to never set foot within their doors. Sadly, I have had to go in there on occasion. The "Super" versions are the worst.
I used to love giant malls and giant stores, but now I am more of a 4 or 5 aisle store person. I think I used to go to places like that to escape, now I have no reason. I ' rather take a walk in the park anyday.
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