When my children left the home and I didn't have to do Christmas shopping for them I made myself a promise. Never again would this person venture out to buy gifts. Never would I be seen in Target, Dick's Sporting Goods or Toys R Us between Thanksgiving and January 1. Here's a clue for you. People during the season are crazy! It's more than a jungle out there. It's a jungle in hell! My home would become a cave. It would be a place to hibernate. For eighteen years I've adhered to this philosophy until today.
A dear lady from my old company is retiring in three weeks. She told me this yesterday. In the course of our conversation I decided I'd buy her a parting gift so after further talking and my prodding she mentioned how much she enjoyed reading. There's a new book out, The Autobiography of Mark Twain. Samuel Clemens made it clear that his story and reflections would not be published until 100 years afte his death. Well, if my math is correct and since he died in 1910 my guess is this is the year.
There are six, count 'em, six Barnes and Nobles in the Columbus area. I hit all six stores. A smart man would've come home, called on the telephone, then struck out to pick it up. Not me. I was on a mission. There is not one Twain book available in all of Columbus, Ohio. Did I mention I went to two Border's? The waiting list said they 'might' have one available in January. I tried Amazon.com as well. Sold out!
All was not lost, though. I had lost my Swiss Army mini-knife and if you've read earlier posts you know how not having one in my hand sends me into a panic.
Thank God for Meijer clothing and food store. They had what I needed and I'm comfortable again in my own skin. I enjoyed writing this blog. It was like a Seinfeld episode; a story about nothing.
Consider this; my Christmas shopping is finished for twenty-eight days and I feel better already.
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