I am not good at malls, but I’d been dragging my heels on picking up some basics like tanks and lady-shaped tees and such for so long that my poor mister was probably ready to call it quits the next time I said “ugh. I have nothing to weeeeeeear!” and that meant heading to The Mall (we have but one, really)
I don’t panic or anything when it comes to malls. I actually did have a wee panic attack as I was prepping my bath because there was an itty bitty spider in it and the panic wasn’t because I dislike spiders, but because I didn’t want the poor thing to die in my tub and I couldn’t catch it as it just balled up, readying its self for its demise in a sea of curly hair and artisanal soap and pumiced off flesh. I daresay the poor critter likely did meet such a demise due to mutual bloody-mindedness; I needed a bath, dammit. it refused to be removed. it was a stand-off and I had all of he power, but little control. these are the things I panic about.
anyways: malls. I just don’t like them. I’m pretty spoiled when it comes to being able to get the goodies I require to live within a few blocks of home from a great selection of local goods suppliers with whom I can engage in banter that is meaningful (“did you catch that show the other night?” “planning on going to such-and-such event?” “wanna grab a beer later?”). we have, like, real relationships and I dig that. mall people are all…a bit like vultures. be they staff or patrons; everyone’s out to get theirs.
I dragged my heels today, too. I didn’t leave the house until about quarter to two when I went to bed last night thinking I’d be headed out by noon at the latest. I drank a glass of wine before I left.
once on the bus, I was happy to disappear into people-watching mode. there was one lady in particular who caught my attention. she must have been in her late 70s or early 80s and had a sort of calm, but radiant joy about her, but like about her. it was a bit like bearing witness to Mrs. Claus out on the daily: she wore really smart, acrylic, red-rimmed glasses, a lovely, flowy, midi-dress in off-white and black floral print that somehow managed to not clash with her very nicely-coiffed, very silver hair and seemed not at all bothered taking up space with her walker. I imagined a million times over telling her “you are incredibly pretty” because she is, but the sentiment was backed with so much – “you remind me of my great-grandmother” and “I hope to be like you one day” and “please tell me all of your secrets!!! especially the ones that involve butter tarts and men!!!” and I don’t think I could have even mustered “you are incredibly pretty” without it being awkward, but damn. I want her confidence as a walker-dependent, roly-poly grandmotherly-type one day and I’m not gonna lie, she almost made me miss my mall stop.
surely I’m not the only objectifier of grannies. right? no?
I did make it to the mall, but not before a stop at Michaels. 40% off days are my undoing. I bought so many toys.
I also bought the tops that I went for. a lot of tops. 10 for $100 after taxes.
but also toys.
I probably need to get out more.