While in Utah this weekend Kyria and I were at a friend's house and he inquired about our plans for the next day. Before I could respond with my usual evasive remark, Kyria said, "Retail therapy." Being the smart guy that he is, he didn't ask for an explanation.
Due to seemingly significant, short term painfully experiences, the kind her and I will look back on in 6 months and say "what the heck was our problem?" we deemed it necessary to take five, that's right, five, trips to the mall this weekend. A horrible endeavour for my bank account, but a fabulous undertaking for my pest-control-tshirt-filled wardrobe.
I don't understand retail therapy. I don't understand how spending my hard earned money makes me feel so good. It used to be that a deposit to the bank gave me this kind of high. Now, it is walking out of a store with a huge bag and an embarrassing charge on my credit card.
Regrettably, my necessity for retail therapy can be pin pointed down to one moment in time in the past month. It's like, in the matter of a half hour conversation I went from a thrifty, savings account, future thinking adult, to a spendy, fashioned, DON'T CARE! twenty-one year old. This moment keeps replaying in my head, and each time I forsake my rational thinking and curb the anxiety with more STUFF. I thought I rid my shopping habit when I left Provo. Turns out, I was just whole for a summer, but, void is back- therefore so is the STUFF. Unfortunately, this time I don't have my handy dandy shopping buddy to make me feel better about what I buy. Somehow when he is spending hundreds of dollars of jeans I feel better about doing so. Funny the effect siblings have on your rational thinking. Which is curious because we were both raised in the same family. We both ate Cream Of Wheat for breakfast every morning for 12 years. We both remember sneaking to our neighbors to watch television or, for him, to play video games. We remember the homemade gifts and made-up games. And yet, with all our humble beginnings, we somehow feel more at home in Nordstrom then in Martin's Cove.
Don't blame us though, because if you've ever been in Nordstrom you know those couches and soft, subtle piano music are very enticing...