Stocking Stuff(ers)
It almost had me today. I found myself in one of those stores that sells calendars and puzzles and bits of plastic. All of it was priced three times higher than what I considered reasonable. But it’s my last day to shop alone, something yelled inside me. I picked up a board game that might make my husband smile. Our family would play it once, for a few hours. Maybe we’d get it out again next year. Maybe. Fifty bucks, plus 15% tax. No. I picked up a few puzzles and toys and crafts and glanced at the price.
People shouldn’t shop in a mall wearing long johns and a full length down coat, but I do. The heat was reaching a feverish level. My toque was squeezing those tender bones just behind my ears. Other shoppers huddled around the shelves, talking about people on their lists. Time was running out. Two hours past lunch and I’d had only siracha peanuts to tide me over. Buy something, hissed the devil on my shoulder, anything that’ll squash into a stocking. It’s only money. My feet headed toward the cash register but my purse felt heavy. I turned. I put it back. I circled the store.
When you’re an avid thrift-shopper, you’ve seen everything in this store on a table at a yard sale. Christmas is long gone. The sellers want you to take it away. It would be great if you’d give them a bit of money, but if you don’t, they’ll probably dump it at the donation bin before the day is through.
We don’t need this stuff. This is the very junk that clogs things up. We complain of a lack of time and money and how much we pollute the planet but at Christmas … we just want to give people a little thing to make them smile.
If, at this juncture, you are wondering if all of my shopping trips are full of this kind of inner turmoil, the answer is yes (even grocery trips). I was sweating profusely by this time, clutching a mind-bending puzzle of some kind in a brightly-coloured box, designed to mesmerize the consumer. I was thirsty and weak and hangry.
But I staggered out of the store and made it home where I gulped down some leftovers from the fridge and took stock of what we really need; healthy food, a good sleep, quiet contemplation of the nature of life, the universe and everything. Chances are, we don’t need a Rubiks Cube. But it sits in my closet (yup, I gave in to the hissing devil, mm hmm, I hate myself), awaiting wrapping paper … that will be torn and crumpled and jammed into the recycling on Boxing Day.
Don’t get me started on that.
