I woke up (semi) early, made a big list of who I was buying for and what I hoped to get them. I stepped out ofthe door a little after 10:00 AM. All in all, traffic was heavy, but not horrific. Traffic’s always bad on the weekends,so I guess I didn’t see too much worse today.
The one thing I had to keep reminding myself today: everything I was experiencing was my own fault. Hated the wait? Myown fault. Too many people and can’t squeeze past some sweaty bastard hogging the aisle? My fault. All in all, rememberingthat I had been the one who waited and waited… this helped tremendously. Whenever I found my patience wearing thin or feltfrustrated over some trivial matter, remembering my own hand in my dilemma calmed me down immediately.
At one point, while I was walking around some shops, I heard a lot of honking. Then I heard two guys yelling back and forth,obviously in some sort of parking or traffic skirmish. Not an accident, just… I dunno. Crap. The fact that they were so heatedin their exchanges, and that there was so much anger in their voices made me laugh. Given the reason why everyone was out andabout, their actions seemed the exact opposite of what their emotions should have been.
On hearing their shouting, I made a promise to myself that I would be extra nice to everyone I encountered while shopping. Felt like a balance thing.
While I was book shopping, I ended up in the Children’s section of the local Barnes and Noble. I ended up getting two booksas gifts: one that I remembered from my own childhood, and another that I came across while working at the Monroe County Public Library, back in my undergraduate days.
I had to get one of the workers there to help me remember a title, and she was curious how I had heard about it. She alsomentioned that her first graders voted this as their favorite book. We chatted a while, and she seemed rather impressed that Iremembered this children’s book from having it read to me, in elementary school. The name of the main character is, admittedly,hard to forget. And what stuck with me most was the fact that, when this story was read to me, it was more of a sonic experiencethan most other stories.
As we were talking, I couldn’t tell if she was flirting with me, or just making smalltalk. Half the time,when I think someone’s flirting with me they’re really just being nice; other times, I’ll be completely clueless and think I’m justhaving a really good conversation. :shrug:
