January 21, 2003
My sister and I were planning a day of shopping.
“But shopping costs money,” Dad objected, conscious of my current lack of employment.
“Shopping doesn’t cost money,” I said.
He didn’t understand.
It’s nice if you have money when you go shopping, but it is hardly essential.
When I go shopping alone, I daydream. I go through the housewares aisle and imagine what it would be like to be the kind of person who decorates her kitchen with copper bottomed kettles and has a set of properly-seasoned cast iron frying pans and actually uses them. I wander through bathroom accessories and wonder what it would be like to have a bathroom or kitchen done in a certain “theme.” I stand by the yarn wall designing afghans.
When I go shopping with a companion, it’s a social occasion. We try on clothes we would never buy, and talk about family. We admire (or laugh at) the toys that are available, and talk about our childhood days. We go through the craft department and talk about our hobbies. We take a break and relax in the comfy seats at the mall court and have a heart-to-heart.
Who needs money to shop?