Wandering

I like to wander. I like to visit new places and not really have an agenda. I like to visit old places and not have an agenda either.

Let's consider two of my favorite places to wander: TJMaxx and the Public Library. Today, take a trip with me through TJ's. Writing about the library will only remind me that I have a few fines to pay.

TJ's! My love affair with TJ Maxx goes back to the mid 90's. (Okay-that's not really that long ago- I shouldn't try so hard to sound nostalgic.)
It all begins with my mother. Cheap. Baragin hunter. She instilled the, "We're poor," idea in my head from early on. When it came to school shopping as a child, my brothers and I only had one choice: JC Pennys. I decided as soon as I was able to buy my own clothes, no more Penny's for me- I'm heading to the Maxx.
So, TJ's has been in my life for some time now. She's (TJ Maxx is clearly a girl; just as JC Penny is clearly a boy.) always been there for me. On those rainy afternoons, or when I'd just gotten done working 3 straight days of doubles as a waitress and had money to burn, and even when I have to buy a present for someone whom I quite admittingly do not want to spend alot of cash on.
For me to go to TJ's I need at least 2 hours in the store. I start at the purses and bags usually, and work my way over to the shoes. If I find a pair that I like, I tend to walk around the store with them on. This helps me to make sure they are comfy, and sometimes it just gets the urge of buying them out, so that after my 2 hour jaunt, I no longer feel the need for the impulse buy. Next, I peruse the home wares. Picture frames, kitchen goods etc. If I'm hungry I might stare longingly at the variuos cookies, pastas, spices, and bread mixes, all packaged up and ready to be gifted away. I never buy them, or even open one in the store for a sample because everyone knows that things come to TJ's after they have been tried to be sold somewhere else. I'm not a fan of extremely old, and possibly last season food items. So, onward I march to the clothes. I'm 27 which means that I should maybe, by professional standards and adulthood norms, shop only in the Misses section, but I look through the juniors anyway. I'm still fun and young, and some of those Misses clothes are just too Stepford for me. My usual journey through the turns and twists of the TJ's racks involves my trying on about 8-10 items.
I plod my way over to the dressing room, arms full of clothes, clad in TJ's shoes that I may or may not buy and wait patiently as the attendant kindly tells me that I can only take in 6 items at a time. Duh, I know this. I always reserve the items I like the least from my pile for trying on last. If all does not go well with the items I like best, I will more than likely forfeit the desire to try these things on anyway.
So, in I go. Optimistic that I will fit into the pants that are on the smaller size of my usual. Pants are always a trouble zone for me. I can't write about what happens next because all to often it's like a natural disaster. squeeze.....rip.....shriek....Okay, it's not that bad. Sometimes I dance in the clothes to make sure I can move, and sometimes I just laugh at myself for thinking that one thing or another will look good.
The worst is when I sweat. Sweating in a dressing room, is a clear indication that you should not buy the item that which the act of trying on is making you sweat. I think that we all have been through this, and we all know what I'm talking about.
It's funny, but I'm usually an all or nothing girl in the dressing room. If it's a good day, I migth buy 4 or 5 of the items- 50%, not too bad. So, the heck with it, throw in the shoes. I've started to sweat in them too by now. On a bad day, nothing fits, I feel gross, and dancing in the mirror wasn't even that fun. So, nothing for me on these days- unless I wander back over to the house wares and check out home decor scanning for that porcelin rooster I've been looking for.

After the dressing room it's time for the final moments of my day at the Maxx. Too bad all this has to end each time with my bank account being willingly robbed of hard earned cash. It's the curse of the wanderer on a rainy day.