I hate going to the mall, and shopping, especially with a group of women.
I am outnumbered four to one, with a wife, and three grandchildren who are girls.
They never used to like the idea of shopping, but that transition into teens for two of them has changed all that.
Of course, they are far more at home going out with their similar-aged friends, looking but not necessarily buying anything, and finding methods of getting into benign mischief.
Nothing had changed much in the last forty-odd years.
But, being old has its advantages, and I get to sit down while they all go off seeking birthday presents, or something from the post boxing day sales.
I might be sitting down, but the writer’s mind is active and I’m looking for a plot to develop or unfold.
Something along the lines of a John McLain Christmas special, ala Die Hard.
No, not from where I’m sitting. The worst that could happen is some shoplifter running with an overweight mall security guard chasing him or her.
Better, perhaps, at night, where a group of bank robbers blast their way into the bank from the underground carpark and bring half the building down on them. No, that’s not going to work either.
Oh, well, perhaps I should just take a moment and read the news. There has to be something good happening in the world, doesn’t there?
What? World War Three? What the hell just happened?