Pre-Thanksgiving Lame

Either I’m tired of writing about our Saturday adventures, or I’m in Friday mode.

Actually, I’m fortunate to be in any mode at all other than a time warp. For me it is Friday, Thursday and Wednesday. With a little bit of post-birthday let-down thrown in (oh, I like writing these lame posts; so self-indulgent).

Friday, obviously, because I have tomorrow off (and the long weekend — woohoo — but more about that later); Thursday, because it is payday; and Wednesday, because of the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. See, there are a couple of fellows at my work who do the crossword puzzle in the Utica OD on break. Sometimes I butt in and help them. The puzzles get more difficult as the week wears on, so some weeks they don’t even need my help before Friday (and, yes, some days I am no help at all anyways). It is rather a joy on Friday to help with a challenging puzzle at lunch and have to continue during the two o’clock break. Such a triumph when we finish it.

I’d like to add a thought about my delightful four day weekend. Some people would tell me to quit gloating, because they have to work. To those people I would explain, with a nod to S.J. Perelman, shut up. (Actually, I rarely tell anybody to shut up, because I don’t like being told that myself. But it is an old S.J. Perelman line: “‘Shut up,’ the policeman explained.”)

I worked all weekends when I had a retail job, and many holidays when I was in the army. And, yes, it kind of sucked hearing the 9 to 5ers gloat on a Friday (or that November Wednesday) (or even Tuesday). But I really didn’t blame them. And I hope nobody blames me.

And while I’m rattling on (lame post, after all), I’m sure there are people who work, and/or have worked, longer, crappier and more hours than me. Sorry, guys. There are people who work way less than me, or even not at all (you know who you are). I can’t control these things!

I guess I say all this to cover my butt. To obviate the need for anybody to jump in and say, “Well I work blah blah so shut up!” (in that squeaky tone of voice people use when imitating a generic annoying person). And maybe I feel a little guilty for being so gleeful about my imminent four day weekend, and I don’t want to. I guess all I can say is, don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. And maybe I’ll get lame again when it’s really Friday. Happy Thanksgiving!

Saturday Adventure III

To continue our Saturday doings, Steven and I made our way back to Morning Star United Methodist Church in Ilion. At least, I didn’t know which church it was till I looked in Saturday’s paper just now; we just went where we saw the sign that said Christmas Sale, with the magic acronym BOGO.

We parked in the lot across the street. I wasn’t clear on if it was the lot for the church we were going to or the one adjoining the lot, or possibly both. I wasn’t particularly worried. For one thing, there were plenty of parking spaces. For another, church people are notoriously forgiving.

The sale was huge. I think every member of the parish must have gone through their attic or closets and donated stuff. I even saw some garland in its original packaging that looked like it was from the ’60s (at least, I’m no judge of dates, but it looked like something from my childhood).

We picked out a half dozen tins, a couple of Santa Clauses, a snowman and a few more goodies. Every time Steven found something he wanted, I insisted we find something else, because after all, Buy One Get One! We ended up with a boxful (and very grateful to the ladies for finding an adequate size box) for which we paid seven bucks and change. What a deal! And we still had three more sales to go!

Pre-Holiday Rant

Plans are being made. Watches are being synchronized. Soon Black Friday will be upon us.

A co-worker just referred to it as Good Friday. There’s a Freudian slip for you, depending on your point of view.

I was a little surprised when I learned that the Black in Black Friday referred to profit — in the black instead of in the red. I always thought it was a phrase coined by downtrodden retail workers, pulverized by an unreasonably large rush of customers, few of whom exhibit that goodwill to men we’ve heard about. I often want to say to people, “If it makes you so unhappy, why are you celebrating it?” But I never would, because I don’t want to hear the self-pitying tirade about how they HAVE TO, not very subtly implying that I am an idiot for even asking, as well as a philistine (not that they know that word) for even obliquely (or that one) suggesting that they NOT celebrate (I’m certainly not suggesting that; what I am suggesting is — but that’s a whole other blog post).

That phenomenon goes on all season. I was ranting about Black Friday (I had a couple of other Christmas rants in mind, but I just thought why have one blog post when I can sleaze three or four out of the season?).

I’ve been to the mall on Black Friday. In my defense, I was there to work, not shop. I found it scary, which given my Halloween obsession should have been a selling point. The scariness began well before I reached the mall. There could not have been a single car left in a single driveway in the Mohawk Valley! I had allowed extra time to look for a parking space, but by the time I was sitting through the third red light outside Consumer Square, I wondered if I had allowed enough.

I hate parking lots in the best of times. I like to drive in and park right away. That way I spend as little time driving in the parking lot as possible. And I like to get a little extra exercise by walking further to the door. There was no spending little time in this parking lot. Not only were there no spaces, there was almost no space between the spaces because people had added extra spaces where none belonged. I eased down a row, praying nobody would be trying to ease in the other direction, because one of us would have had to back up and I didn’t want it to be me. What a day for my brake light to go on for the first time!

Of course, you don’t inevitably run out of brake fluid on Black Friday. It only happened to me once, and my Dad nicely helped me out of that fix. But you can see why the day might have bad connotations for me.

This rant started when a co-worker mentioned a good price on towels. “Ooh, where’s that?” I asked. She told me where and when, and I said, “Never mind.” Another co-worker wondered how much Black Friday merchandise makes it under the tree — I mean, isn’t that the POINT? — and how much winds up in the purchaser’s closet. I said, “I’ll pay more and keep my sanity.”

Oh well, to each his own, as the old lady said when she kissed the cow. Some people enjoy the crush. Perhaps their competitive instincts are aroused. Or they just truly love a bargain. I know for some it is a family tradition. I say to them, enjoy! If it’s fun for you, power to ya! If it’s not, for heavens’ sake, STAY HOME!