Black Friday is no time for Thanksgiving!

Every year, I bundle myself in a scarf and gloves, zip up my coat and trek out into the madness of Black Friday shopping, armed with an armful of ads and a cup of hot chocolate.

This year was going to be slightly different.  I had to work, which means I had to be out of the stores by 6:00 am and I would shopping by myself, which I have never done.  Even under those conditions, I was willing to face the madness. 

I should have known by the start of my morning (it's funny to even call it morning since I was at Walmart by 12:15 am) that it wasn't going to be an ideal experience.

It started with the lack of parking.  I had to park at a nearby store and the only spot available was right next to a snow bank which meant I couldn't open my driver's side door.  I had to crawl over the middle console and exit out the passenger door.  "It's all good" I thought to myself. "At least I don't have to wait outside in the cold."

With my hands in my pockets, I walked with determination to the store doors, plotting out my strategy for the deals I most wanted.  That was when my boots found a patch of black ice and my knees came crashed to the ground.  And before I could even retract my hands from their cozy pockets, my body lurched forward and into the ice my face went as the passersby continued on, not even offering a neighborly, "Are you okay?".  It wasn't quite the awakening that I was looking for, but what can you do?

I knocked the dirt and ice off my face and pants and stood strong, ego and knees a bit bruised by otherwise still determined.

When I reached the store doors, there was not a shopping cart in sight and the lines where already wrapped around the store.  Oh dear.

"That's okay.  I'll be able to move throughout the aisle with more ease and I won't be able to splurge because I can only buy what I can carry."  I told myself.

As I walked through the store with my arms filled with toys and pajamas, resembling poor little Gus Gus with his cheese pile, I was pushed and shoved and literally cattled to move by carts of INSANE people.  At one point, someone actually took some of the pajamas right out of my pile that was IN MY HANDS!

My stride had lost it's confidence as I made my way to the back of the line.  And I stood quietly and patiently, trying to maintain my composure as I continued to get shoved.  I had finally had enough.  I looked down at my measly pile of goodies and thought, "forget it.  I'm outta here."  So I set aside my pile and walked out the doors with nothing but a small tear in my eye. 

I came home, kicked off my shoes and got back in bed, defeated.  When my alarm went off, I wiped the eye make-up out from under my eyes and called it good.