Blechh Friday

Ah, Black Friday. The day on which greediness, materialism, and bad manners are rewarded. Women lace up their running shoes in preparation of mowing down anything standing in the way of a $15 savings, men forego Thanksgiving with their families to camp out in front of Best Buy--a friend really did see people lined up in front of Best Buy on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving--and sales personnel are forced to report to work before their turkey dinner is digested. I self-righteously declared a Black Friday Black-Out this year, vowing to spend not one cent on this disgusting excuse for a holiday tradition.

The day dawned innocently enough. I had no plans for shopping, but we did have a tree to decorate. But after "thoroughly" searching the attic for the Christmas lights, the Wrangler reported that we must have thrown them away last year. (The fact that it didn't seem odd or out of character for us to inexplicably throw away perfectly good Christmas lights is, in itself, evidence that we are in no position to judge Black Friday shoppers.) I felt no compunction heading over to CVS for lights. CVS is not Target, I reasoned, unreasonably. I further assured myself that it is not 4AM, I'm not looking to score a mad deal on lights, I do not plan on shoving old ladies out of my way, and I will not fight anyone for a parking spot. I am not a crazy Black Friday shopper. I am a calm, rational consumer with a legitimate reason for buying something.

I found some cool snowflake tree lights and bought the last two boxes. Upon our return home, we were dismayed to find that we had purchased enough lights for exactly one spin 'round the tree. To make a long story short, three trips to two different CVS stores and NINE boxes of lights later, we had enough of those blasted snowflake tree lights to barely cover the Christmas tree. We mustered half-hearted applause during our tree lighting. I guess multiple trips to the store to drop $100+ on lights will usurp some of your yuletide anticipation.

Later that day, I climbed up into the attic to put away the turkey roaster. And what was the very first thing I saw at the top of the steps? A large box clearly marked "Christmas Tree Lights." I simply do not know how the box escaped the Wrangler's purview. This is the dude who spotted a $20 bill in a pile of leaves, people. From a moving car.

Even more disconcerting: somewhere out there, Black Friday shoppers are wrapping their $39 ipads and $79 flat-screen TVs. Yeah, I sure showed them!