Dearest Rachel –
I’ve referred in the past to shopping as a form of ‘retail therapy,’ although this probably comes as no surprise to you and your girlfriends. At the risk of making some sort of sweeping sexist statement, women have known the value, in terms of mental health applications, of shopping as long as the retail market has been their means of being the family forager. I’m not entirely certain how it works, in terms of granting one the dopamine rush we crave, but I realize that it does work.
Sometimes.
Maybe it’s because I was meant to be the hunter, rather than the gatherer; maybe it’s because I’m thinking too hard about the money (doubtful, given my situation) or about other things going on in my life (which is likely to be considerably closer to the mark), maybe it’s that buying something just because it’s a bargain isn’t necessarily a bargain at all, but its effectiveness on me is, let’s just say, hit or miss. Occasionally it will work, which is how I come to the realization of the concept in the first place, but there are days like yesterday where it didn’t serve its desired purpose as well as I expected it to.
Liturgically known as the feast of St. Stephen the proto-martyr (although wouldn’t John the Baptist be more appropriately designated as such, since his death preceded Christ’s? Oh well; as a Protestant, I’ve no understanding nor say in how the Catholic Church determines these things – as if they have the right to make such judgements in the place of God Himself), more familiar to our Commonwealth friends across the pond and over the northern border as Boxing Day, we don’t have a widely accepted name for the day after Christmas. All the same, we do recognize it as a chance for bargain hunting for unsold Christmas merchandise and those gifts that turned out to be other than what the recipient wanted (hence, the “many happy(?) returns of the day”). Everything with a holiday theme is marked down viciously to make room for new stock, allowing those who received cash or gift card to get some of the best bang for their buck – while supplies last.
We used to make a habit of going out together on this day, especially on years when we celebrated Christmas with your folks. I’ll be honest in saying that part of the appeal of such trips was just the opportunity to get out of the house, and I hope you don’t mind my saying that – in all likelihood, you may have known it, even though it was never spoken between us. At the same time, there was a certain craziness to the day at the Walmart or K-Mart (while the latter was still in business) down there that stores up here lack. Maybe it was because – while not the only stores in town, or throughout the county, even – they were by far the biggest, with the largest selection, both before and after the holiday. So everyone seemed to be there when we would go by, and there was so much to look at and possibly buy.
For whatever reason, I was hoping to recapture some of that bargain-hunting, people-watching atmosphere of those days gone by, and texted the girls to see what their thoughts were on the matter. Ellen demurred, as she would still be en route from Macomb herself – honestly, she might have had better luck replicating the effect by stopping at those stores (well, the Walmart, anyway… and maybe the Farm King; K-Mart is long gone) on her way out of town – but Erin and Kerstin seemed enthusiastic, with Erin asking if it would be okay if she invited her mother along as well. Aside from running the risk of reading too much into such a question, I had no problem with that, and said as much. At this point, it was only a matter of determining timing, especially since I intended to stop by Dad for a few hours at some point in the day.
But since the girls were talking about meeting in the afternoon (and Logan chimed in about the fact that his was an ordinary nine-to-five workday), that gave Daniel and I a chance to check out a newly-opened place before hitting the local big boxes, while the entire gang would troop around the mall in the evening… well, it’s ‘evening’ at this time of year – were this summer, I’d wager the sun wouldn’t have been down until we were just about to leave the restaurant at the end of the day’s activities. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
We lingered over breakfast, partly because what we were given was so generous, but also because the service was a little bit on the slowish side; I suspect that they, like just about everyone, are having trouble finding sufficient help. still, that being said, it was very pleasant, and we would’ve enjoyed it together, I shouldn’t wonder.
We weren’t so fortunate with our excursion to Meijer, however. Oh, we found a few things, but Daniel completely passed on the peanut butter chocolates that he always used to favor. “I’m full,” he protested, which was more than understandable, but full or not, the opportunity to take advantage of these bargains only comes once a year – twice, if you count Halloween – and one needs to ignore one’s immediate condition for what one expects will be one’s longer-term wishes. Of course, maybe that was the problem with our own Boxing Day ventures back in the day; we bought so much, whether we needed it or not, and it simply sat on our pantry shelves until such time as Jan and I ultimately wound up throwing most of them out.
***
The same could be said of the stores we visited at the mall in the evening. Sure, there were some pretty good sales – Hot Topic, for example, was offering T-shirts at six bucks a pop, or “buy one get two free,” but the boys walked out empty-handed, not having found anything that appealed.
You’ll notice I mention about the boys going into the store, suggesting that I stayed outside, and you’re probably wondering why. Well, Erin and her mom (Erin, mostly) expressed no interest in Hot Topic, and dropped into Claire’s a couple doors down, leaving me torn as to who to follow. Ultimately, I wound up hanging around outside both stores, waiting to see who would emerge first; making the decision not to decide, much like Cinderella.
What stores I did go into, like the candy place we first discovered in Miami and San Antonio before it found its way here, I found myself realizing that I had no need for their wares, and indeed, they would do me no good to indulge in. I feel that I’d regret it if I were to buy and consume them – yes, I’m reading the calorie numbers on candy packages. I realize that if I were to make a habit of this, I’d never get to eat any form of candy for the rest of my life – so I also suffer some regret at not trying some of their more interesting offerings (such as freeze-dried sour candies; I’m of the understanding that the process intensifies the flavor, which is intriguing, but not enough for me to drop an Alex on a bag).
So, for all my intentions of making this a day of retail therapy and bargain hunting, I wind up with an empty trophy case and a mind uneased by the events of the day. Even the moments of appreciation of the various wares available for sale felt a little odd, as I watched Erin admiring a folding bicycle, and wondering if she could feasibly bring in aboard the train with her. Does the train take her to her workplace? I didn’t think it did, but she would know better than I; in any event, we don’t see eye to eye on the efficacy and timeliness of public transportation.
And you’re probably wondering about Kerstin at this point; where does she figure into this story? Well, I’m not sure. She was enthusiastic about getting together – you probably recall that she was a big believer in retail therapy, herself (almost too much, in fact) – but she wanted to get some stuff at Ikea first of all, and then she decided to eat dinner there, and then… well, by then, I guess she figured too much of the evening had passed (especially since we boys were wrapping up the trip with dinner, and it would be pointless to hang around for that, or so she must have concluded), so while we kept sending texts to keep her up to date as to where in the mall we could be found, we never saw her.
So between the lack of deals worth buying, and the mix-up with connecting with Kerstin, the day didn’t turn out nearly as therapeutic as I’d hoped. Which is rather a pity, as I don’t expect to be back to the mall again until next December, most likely – unless the girls unite to drag me back there.
Until then, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 