Manolo says, it is Monday and you are back at your desk six pounds fatter, several hundred dollars poorer, and heavily bruised about the head and the shoulders.
When did Thanksgiving, originally the simple feast of gratitude for the blessings of Divine Providence, become the PigBaconTurDuckenator of holidays, the portmanteau weekend into which we have stuffed the giant helium balloons, the professional footballing, and the nakedly opportunistic, four-day celebration of retail commerce?
Black Friday… it sounds like the curse, and is.
Of the course, these curmudgeonly thoughts occurred to you at 3:26 in the AM, on the Friday morning, as you were standing, number 41 in the line, waiting to enter the BestBuy store at 5AM to purchase the greatly discounted video game console.
Normally, you would seek to avoid such needless trauma.
But, unlike crafty Odysseus, you cannot fill the ears of your oarsmen with beeswax and lash yourself to the mast. And so when the Sirens of Commerce sing to you their sweet, sweet song, you grab the helm and drive your holiday budget onto the rocks of Scylla (as represented by the parking lot of the Galleria).
And to mix the Greekish metaphors, when the doors of the mall were opened, you rushed in, and were seized by the spirit of battle. You became as prideful Achilles at the gates of Troy.
Sing oh muses, of how your mighty handbag cut the swath of destruction, through Forever 21!
And, now, here it is Monday, and you are feeling the aftereffects of gluttony and hand-to-hand combat, the combination of heavy bruising, too-tight clothing, and the profound regret.
The Denis Multistrap Sandals from Christian Louboutin. Prizes that even scornful Agamemnon would dare not take from your hands.