Grarrrrr!

Once upon a time, I loved, absolutely loved going to a store, any story (except maybe grocery) and shopping. I loved browsing the aisles, picking out new things, taking that bag after the transaction was completed. YAY shiny new things for me! Or for Aidan! Going to the mall was an OCCASION. All those shiny stores full of shiny new things under one shiny roof! Someone hold me!

It’s not so much fun anymore. My patience has run the eff out.

I went to the mall to do some shopping for fun, and also get some errands taken care of at the attached Target. (Yes, this mall has a Target as an anchor store, which is kind of brilliant if you ask me. The other anchor is Kohl’s.) I don’t know WHY I thought going to the mall on a Sunday evening would be a good idea. It wasn’t. People were walking like turtles (and spread out, of course), and by the time I’d finally get around them, wild children would be all over the place, and I’d be scared of tripping over one or more of them. Entire huge families would bunch up and block entryways and aisles. And for some inexplicable reason, every few yards there were trash receptacles IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLES. Not off to the sides, but right in the middle. For people to trip over. REAL SMART. Not. I’d started off excited and looking forward to finding some treasures, but after a few stores, my patience was gone. I had to get OUT of the mall and into the Target, where things were just a little bit better (except in the toy aisle. Aye Dios Mio.).

People, do you think it’s too much to ask that parents keep their children in check in stores? I spend more time dodging random unwatched kids who are running and screaming and laughing than I do waiting to check out! This is not just in the toy aisle, by the way. Seems like no matter where I go, there are rogue children running all over the place.

WHY? I was never allowed to go running all wild and crazy through a store when I was a kid. In fact, the first time my parents let me and my sister go to the toy aisle without them was a BIG FREAKING DEAL and we knew we’d better not screw it up or we’d never be allowed to do it again!

I know this is me, but when I am browsing, I like to be alone. I don’t want to share that space with anyone else. So how come, every single time I find a deserted aisle and start to browse, some random kids come bouncing right over to where I am, followed by a mom who looks like she’s going to run me the hell over if I don’t move RIGHT NOW, and they seem to have an urgent need for the exact thing I was looking at/researching/browsing? GO AWAY I yell in my mind. I was looking at these spaghetti noodles FIRST! Of course I don’t say that, and I move aside to make room and I’m polite and everything. But inside, I am irritated and frustrated and impatient.

I’m honestly thisclose to just… buying everything online from now on. Ordering my groceries from PeaPod or something like that. Adam typically goes to the store for groceries, but he only goes to Aldi, and there are certain things that I only like the name brand of. But going to the store, dealing with other people? It stresses me out anymore. I don’t even care to clothes shop anymore. I walk into a store, see all the choices on the racks, and I get overwhelmed. That happened to me tonight in Forever 21. And Aeropostale. (I’m pretty sure I’ve outgrown Aeropostale anyway.) I pretty much turned around and left. (I DON’T freak out in Old Navy, funnily enough, but that’s because their merchandise is laid out in a way that MAKES SENSE.)

So there you have it. I don’t enjoy shopping anymore. 🙁 Well, that’s not necessarily true. I still enjoy the act of acquiring new things, but I don’t like going to a brick and mortar store (unless it’s a book store or Old Navy) and dealing with other customers and their wild, screaming children. I don’t know if people are just more irritating in general, or if I’m just more crabby about it. At any rate, I’d much rather do it online. Or better yet, indie. Sometimes the shipping costs are worth my sanity. Plus I love to get packages in the mail.