Speaking of shopping, the day after Christmas, I pulled on my BGPs (which are looking a bit tattered, I might add), and headed to the closest mall. I had to get chicken feed, so was going in that general direction. The reason I was driven to such madness was that I had a gift card for a certain store that was due to expire. And, being
My goal was to take my $25 gift card and buy a top or two for work. Oy! There was an ocean of packed racks everywhere I looked! Too many colors! Too much everything! However, I lucked out and had entered the store right into an area of a designer who had less gaudy stuff. So I hyperventilated my way around, snatched two sweaters off the first rack I came to and asked a store employee if the sale signs applied to them. She scanned them and - woot! - 60% off! I quickly grabbed two more tops and tottered to the checkout. Along with 40 other women, all of whom had returns. Oy, OY. A very attractive young woman from cosmetics sauntered up to our line and offered to check out anyone who was interested. I was quickly in her perfumey wake and checked out with no problem. The average price of the four items I bought - before sale - was $49. After applying my gift card, I only had to pony up $18! I was so excited. The lovely young woman gushed, "Oh, you saved ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE DOLLARS!" To which I replied, "Can you imagine the markup on this stuff?" She looked at me disapprovingly. I was clearly not appreciating what Macy's had done for me. The entire experience took less than 15 minutes, even though it felt like hours and, although I wanted to get a couple pair of knee socks (mine resemble Swiss cheese), the thought of another checkout line did me in. I fled with my purchases.
I still need knee socks (yes, I know I knit, but I need these socks THIS winter...) and my BGPs need replacing. After all of those warnings about the state of your underwear, vis a vis an accident, my mother would be SHOCKED of the sight of mine. However, I do believe I will be ordering them online. I don't think my nerves could take another foray into Excessville. It will take me at least three years to get over it.