While smiling and fluttering my fingers in the semblance of a wave to my neighbour, I noticed she was struggling with a fully laden stubborn shopping trolley. She managed to mumble a reluctant “Merry Christmas”. I envied her because she looked like she had her Christmas shopping done and I was yet to start. Seeing her frustration, I was determined to begin with an agreeable trolley.
I’ve got to admit it would be wonderful if giving your opinion was an acceptable gift. Christmas would be affordable to everybody, especially me because I have been told on more than one occasion that I am opinionated. Maybe I should have my opinions printed on t-shirts so everybody can enjoy them. I suppose giving my opinion ‘gifts’ might not be so much fun for children, but then again I doubt most of them would notice unless their Wi-Fi was down.
My grandchildren’s presents are already sorted, wrapped and under the tree. My intention on this shopping occasion was to buy gifts for the grown ups. However, I had an epiphany of sorts, or perhaps it was the thought of fighting my way through the crowds of people in front of me. I thought, “Nope, not this year”. The grown ups are all big enough and cashed up enough to buy their own stuff. I have no doubt that I will be given their opinions on my decision to forego buying them gifts. Instead I purchased two washing baskets and filled one with pet food for the local rescue while the other was filled with food for the homeless.
I wanted to buy a small gift for a Secret Santa I’m involved in. I noticed a pretty photo frame on a shelf above some mirrors and reached up to get a closer look, when suddenly I lost my footing and fell against the fixture. I was still holding the trolley with one hand. Glass shelving slipped out of the fixture, photo frames fell into the trolley, mirrors smashed to the floor and other customers looked on aghast. I gingerly picked myself up from the heap of shattered merchandise, retrieved the shopping trolley and headed to the nearest bank to take out a loan to cover the cost of Breakages Must Be Paid For while contemplating the seven years bad luck for each broken mirror. Who the hell said Merry Christmas?!