Because the blades to my hand mixer seem to have vanished into thin air (or quite possibly into the kitchen-drawer-version of What Happened To That One Sock That Was In The Dryer?) and I have a need for a mixer this weekend, I braved the Holy-Carp-Christmas-Is-In-Less-That-Two-Weeks Weekend shopping crowd.
As I stood in line waiting to use the self checkout, I heard two women behind me discussing things in a fairly bad stage whisper.
"Look. She's getting someone a mixer for Christmas."
"Oh. That's like the worst present ever!"
I suppose in the frazzle of holiday shopping, trying to figure out how to buy gifts for 10 people when you can only afford gifts for 5, or just the stress of that many people in one store at a given time, might make a person not realize that other people are not necessarily gift shopping. I didn't say anything because, hey, nothing says Happy Holidays like judging what other people are buying.
(And come on, who amongst us has never looked into the junk food packed cart of someone seriously obese and harbored an unkind thought or two? Sure, they might be buying for a part, but what you see is a very large person and 320,955 calories. We all do it, even subconsciously.)
So I didn't say anything. Let them have their Shopping & Gawking Fun. It's a harmless past time while you're being slowly tortured by the unwashed masses all there to purchase really cheap crap at Low Low Prices. Later they can mock me while they have dinner, "OMG! U should have seen it! This old lady got her MOTHER a MIXER for Christmas!" (Well, who else would I be getting it for?) ((And no, my mother need not worry about getting an electric hand mixer for Christmas.)) (((She should worry about getting spoons. And bendy straws. Because I'm not very creative.)))
I scanned and paid for my shiny new mixer, and left.
But truly, I wanted to turn around and say "Nice isn't it? I'm donating it to Toys For Tots."
Okay, it was funnier in my head.