These off-putting, pathetic, sub par, Michael Cranston-inspired words, come to you from the Valley. I drove up this morning. Wanted to check the place out.
I went to the Giant Tiger store in New Minas this morning to get a few provisions. Giant Tiger is the place people go when they can't afford to shop at Wal*Mart.
I bought some underpants today. Underwear. Briefs. Whatever you call them. While this may not strike you as remarkable, maybe even boring, this was a unique experience for me. My entire life, my parents (mostly my mother) had purchased my underpants. I wasn't even sure what size I took. I just knew that the Stanfield's that my mother bought me always fit and were always the same colour, so I would not have to think at all about what colour underwear to put on every morning.
Once my mother moved out of the house and into the Shannex in 2013, that kind of shopping for Christmas stopped. Even before that, when she was living here at the house, and after Dad died, she had largely switched over to buying gift cards for people. A 50 dollar gift card for Staples was a very welcome prezzie for me every year. So I am saying that I do not remember the last time I got new underpants. Probably several years, and since several of the ones I had were getting ratty, I could not put off the purchase any longer.
I bought Hanes men's briefs. I think they are my size. I will find out tomorrow when I get up and put on a pair. If they do not go up past my knees, I guess I frigged up on the purchase. And even at an extreme discount store like Giant Tiger, 3 pairs were still 11 dollars plus tax. Why is such abbreviated clothing so expensive, anyway?
This whole post may seem like a waste of time, perhaps even a touch creepy; but it is important to me. I am heading into the first Christmas season without my mother to share it with. The things she always did for me, I now have to do for myself, or they don't get done. I do not look forward to the approaching holiday season. I wish I could just skip it and wake up on January 1st, 2016. But, of course, I still wish I could pick up the phone and talk to my parents. Neither of those things is gonna happen.
It is 9:30. Hallowe'en is nearly over. A sucky year is getting long in the tooth. And I do not know what the morrow will bring.
See you then.
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