THE PULL OF THE MALL

Earlier this week I finally noticed that my jeans are looking pretty ratty.  Not only my jeans, but the only shirts I wear are blue sweatshirts.  Some of them are pretty blue sweatshirts, with zippers and buttons and other ornaments, and some of them are old baggy blue sweatshirts that lose their shape after you've washed them once, and these have been washed three-hundred times.  

When I noticed the frayed bottoms of my jeans and the condition of my shirts, I made a decision that this Saturday, today, I would venture out in my green Ford Focus, Myrtle, and make the sixty-mile drive to the nearest city with a mall and update my wardrobe.  I actually have gotten excited about it over the past few days.  The last time I did that was before Thanksgiving when my daughter and I drove down together and shopped the day away. I didn't realize then that my jeans needed replaced, though, choosing instead to buy essentials like ten bottles of lotion from Bath and Body and a half-dozen candles from a little expensive candle shop.

I am up early. I have to work awhile before taking this little hiatus.  I woke up, stretched, went to the kitchen and made my iced coffee, walked to the French doors to glance out, which is my ritual...WHAT'S THIS?  IT SNOWED?  NOOOOOOO! It didn't only snow, there is ice under there.  It's visible in the car tracks on my street.  For once this season, the weatherman hit the nail on the head.  I knew it was supposed to "snow."  But they are constantly predicting these huge snowstorms and when I get up the next day, you can still see the grass sticking up through the "blizzard."  

Can we do it?  Well, first I have to find a door that will open because apparently the wind has blown all night, too, sweeping that wet, heavy snow into every nook and cranny and piling it up against the nearest vertical surface, for example, my doors.  I. WILL. GET. OUT. TO. GO. TO. THE. MAAALLLLL!  

Stay tuned for updates.