Black Friday. The day of all days to avoid shopping. Shopping itself is not all bad - if the stars align, and there's no urgent feeling of "I-need-the-perfect-dress-by-next-weekend", it can be lots of fun! The crowds of people are what make shopping torture to be borne stoically (or not so stoically) rather than the pleasant outing it should be.
This year, for the first time ever, I went shopping on Black Friday. I didn't get trampled, I witnessed no crazed tug-of-wars between customers who eyed the last toy (or slippers, or cardigan, or iPod Touch) at the same time. There were no lines, no parking debacles (you know, the ones where you drive around the whole parking lot three times before finding some poor pedestrian to stalk back to his or her parking space). You might doubt my words. You really went shopping on Black Friday, in America? You might say. That can't be possible! Indeed, if I weren't the one telling the story, I might doubt them, too.
The story begins with a fit of cabin fever. I'd slept in that morning, after an intense food coma following Thanksgiving dinner. Having no plans until that evening, I watched some t.v., made some scones, and read a bit before becoming so bored I just had to leave the apartment. So I went for a walk. Didn't get very far before it started raining, so I ducked into the consignment shop down the next block for a bit of a reprieve. For half the time I spent browsing the few colorful racks, I was the only customer in the shop. I only saw three other customers the whole time I was there. Most importantly, I bought two items at a discount! (A discount completely unrelated to Black Friday, but it amounts to the same thing.)
And that's how I went shopping on Black Friday without losing my sanity. Not to mention, I helped the world by re-using unwanted (and lovely) clothes.
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