While I was eating pie with my ex’s family last night, the topic of going out to shop came up and we laughed that at one point in our lives, “going out” met something far different than $5 pyjamas at 4 a.m.
I don’t enjoy the Black Friday madness. I’d rather spend the morning after Thanksgiving cuddled up with my little loves and having a leisurely breakfast. Besides, in the last few years, it’s taken on a kind of craziness typically reserved for eating competitions and I’m just not built that way.
Still, it’s hard not to get excited over things like the aforementioned pyjamas. Especially when you guiltily admit to your children are sleeping in sweat pants and long sleeved tee shirts instead of Star Wars and Princess flannels.
Especially when you live in a house that refuses to warm up and your feet get so cold you seriously start to contemplate the usefulness of a hot water bottle in a knitted cosy.
Still, I can’t imagine setting my alarm for the pre dawn hours or drinking copious amounts of tea in order to stay up late enough to hit the sales. And then, once at the sales, to be surrounded by people who take the whole Black Friday thing very seriously. So seriously, people get trampled, fights break out, and items are stolen from your shopping cart.
It makes me wonder if they remember the fact that they were sitting at a table expressing gratitude and love less than twelve hours prior.
So this Black Friday, like so many Black Fridays, I’ll be snuggled in my bed with two children kicking me in the kidneys and wondering if I’m missing out on the deal of the century and then discovering I don’t really care.
Are you a Black Friday shopper?