Our early Thanksgiving celebration was a blast, but our Black Friday shopping was a bust.
Firstly, we weren’t able to go on Friday since I worked late, so Saturday morning, I drug my sleepy backside out of bed, rounded up Mario and headed into the city.
Our first stop was high on everyone’s list – St. Clair Bowl. The aisles were jam packed with people. Some on ladders, some with periscopes and many traveling back and forth between the lanes. Mario and I fought our way through the crowds and managed to slide into the pro shop unharmed. Luckily IT was not crowded at all. We picked out her Christmas present , drilled it to fit her hand, then fought the crowds to get back to our car. She’d wanted to try it out, but with the collegiate tournament going on, no lanes were available. And since we forgot our periscope, we couldn’t watch either.
We then hit the crowds at Gordman’s. We elbowed our way to the clearance aisle, found the perfect plastic bottle, and then stood in the long line to check out. Two dollars and 17 cents later, we were outa there.
Our final stop was Target. Not quite as busy, so we were able to quickly pick up a collared shirt for me, and a bunch of candy to fill the previously mentioned plastic bottle.
Maybe not what the typical Black Friday shoppers were after, but we got just what WE needed. Come to think of it, it wasn’t a bust at all.
As the weekend continued, I felt almost normal. It’s quite unusual for me to have a real Saturday and Sunday off. So I enjoyed it while I could. The weather was phenomenal, so I washed my car and somewhere between us going in and out, the cat got loose. We didn’t realize it until Sunday morning when he wasn’t on our bathroom counter begging us for food.
All day we worried about him, calling his name any time we went outside. As night fell, along with the temperatures, our worries began to grow. We left the garage door open so he could find warmth and headed to bed.
When I awoke at 5 AM, I heard him immediately. (Remember his crackly nose?) “You found him!” I whispered loudly. I ran to gather him up, then just as quickly, I dropped him. He was completely crusty! He’d obviously found a few mud puddles while perusing the neighborhood, or most likely, hiding in fear.
Hubby’s job while I went into work, was to de-crust him. He texted me after… “The cat’s bath didn’t go well. It looked like a mud wrestling match took place in our bathroom.”
Lovely. I’d just cleaned it.
But he’s clean now, and warm, and safe, and hanging out by the door in case we leave it open again.
Curiosity really is going to kill him.