How many days until Christmas is over?
I’ve been shopping all day. And it was the worst kind of shopping — the kind you do when you have no idea what you’re looking for. You wander through stores, desperately looking for something to jump out and say “Pick me! I’m perfect. I’m the thing that your friend will love, and look!! I’m even on sale.” Needless to say that didn’t happen.
After my hair appointment this morning, I went to N. Michigan avenue and began my journey at the Bloomies building.
The first thing I noticed was the overwhelming assortment of suburbanites. They’re easy to spot: 1) They don’t know where they’re going — whether by car or on foot. They stop, confused, in the middle of streets and sidewalks. 2) They’re clearly desensitized to the grit of the city, and wander the streets as though they’re in a mall. They appear to be surprised by homeless people, and the liberal use of the ‘F’ word by passersby. 3) Generally, they’re not dressed very well. A few of them are even wearing those dreaded Christmas sweaters — the red and green creations that feature pictures of their favorite pagan rituals. Fashion heresy.
I ventured over to the Water Tower, which has been ruined by the advent of Macy’s — yep, I’m a Marshall Field’s snot, and I will mourn the loss of that store forever, as any other self-respecting Chicagoan will. I went into C.O. Bigelow and bought a bunch of stuff that was on sale. I don’t really know why.
I even went to Filene’s Basement, which is usually too disorganized for my taste. Found yet another thing for myself, but opted against buying it. Bag whore that I am, it was a $700 Bottega Veneta tote. It was slightly appealing because it was reduced from $1300, and an attractive additional 25% off. When the haze cleared I realized that it wasn’t a good idea, and left it there. Even though it would have looked SO cute with my brown shearling.
I met up with my friend A., which was actually the best part of the day, and we hung out for a few hours.
Then, I was back to my same dilemma, which was what the hell to buy for the two last people on my list. I resorted to the most wonderful creation in the history of Christmas — the gift card. It’s a beautiful thing.
I went to another store that I can’t mention to get a gift that I can’t discuss on this blog. Not that this person will read it, but just in case. This person actually avoids my blog on purpose, but that’s a completely different story. While in this mystery store, I ran into a guy that I know socially. I run into him semi-annually, in the strangest places. I originally met him through a grammar school friend, then he dated one of my friends. They broke up and now, several years later, he’s married. Every time I ask him how married life is treating him, he sighs and says “It’s married life.”
We’ve had this conversation before, he and I, and it never seems to be any better than mediocre for him. He says that his fellow married friends share his sentiment. He advised me not to get married (not that I’m in danger of going in that direction). We chatted a few more minutes and parted ways. After we left, I became (even more) depressed. Is it worse to be in a mediocre relationship or alone? I guess it depends on what you’re looking for, or your definition of a “good life.” I’m sure there are a lot of people who are living every day in lukewarm or bad relationships, and I’ll bet those people have a really hard time during the holidays. But I tried not to think about that too much. Back to Christmas shopping . . .
After that, I went to Bally’s to procure a far-more-expensive-than-it-should-have-been membership for my father. The good news is that he’ll love it. One thing I know for sure this Christmas.
