In a bit under a month, we--my parents and I--have to go to a wedding.
Actually, my father is the best man, but thankfully we like the folks
getting married, so it’s not too bad. At the same time, I’m generally
of the opinion that weddings suck, and are to be avoided at all costs.
The side effect of this world view is that, I don’t really own clothes
that are fancy enough to wear in these situations. This is mitigated
somewhat by the fact that I’m a fairly conservative dresser and my
normal wardrobe is pretty versatile, so usually I can skate by as long
as I don’t need to wear a tie. But this wedding thwarted me.
It also--and more importantly--thwarted my mother, who again doesn’t
(or didn’t) really have anything dressy/formal enough, for similar
sorts of reasons.
So we went shopping.
In a mall.
(Everyone gasp at once here)
Dear lord. That was tiring, and depressing, and stressful. And, being
sort of thrifty to begin with, appalling the price of clothing.
And to think, some people go to malls for fun. As recreation.
Dear lord.
In other news, I have a brief story to recount. We were driving (on the
way to the mall) and my mother, on the prowl for a diet coke, made an
abrupt right turn from the left lane. into a gas station parking lot.
“Jesus,” I screamed reaching for the door jam in hopes that, that
might protect me somewhat for the painful death that--at the moment--I
felt was imminent.
Incidentally, I also wondered why on earth that particularly deity
seemed like the appropriate one to invoke in this situation.
And then I made another realization.
This was, by far, not the first time as a passenger in a car where I
felt that my life was endangered by a driver in pursuit of a diet soft
drink.
And suddenly I was a little nostalgic.
At least once I started breathing again.