Mauled



Due to the fact that I’m severely allergic to it, I tend to avoid going mall sharking. Sometimes I make myself go anyway though, because it’s Christmas and I’m tough like that. The Plan was to squeeze a quick shopping trip in between appointments. I parceled out an entire hour, I like to think that means I’m an optimist. Thanks to excellent parking kismet I landed a perfect up-front spot and everything was going exactly as planned, until that part where I opened the door and entered.

Oh the humanity. Have you ever noticed that gravity is heavier in the mall?  I think that’s because the whole place is a mojo-sucking black hole. Now I know that a certain gender is rumored to enjoy the place, but I don’t buy it. I didn’t see anyone smiling, male or female, and trying to make eye contact to share a smile was treated as an act of aggression.

As I dragged my bags of holiday sweaters around, I did begin to wonder if we could all opt to exchange gifts every other year and if pack mules can be considered service animals?  Bet the kids would luv sitting up there, stuffing whatever you buy into the saddlebags.  You know I might like the mall if they let pack mules in. Nah. Not even then.

In the end I have no idea what I bought, it’s in a pile of bags on the bed behind me. All I know is that I missed my appointment, forgot about lunch and emerged hours later in the dark, late for dinner. My arms were shaking either from fatigue, low blood sugar or post mall-a-day stress. The worst part is the chapter I was writing has crawled somewhere deep inside The Glitter Globe where it is rocking back and forth refusing to come out, and now SOMEONE needs to wrap all that stuff while I go find my mojo.