The Road To Hell Is Paved With Shopping Bags

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Pitchfork After a morning spent slaving over a paellera, the resulting lunch just about wiped me out. I was so full, sleep seemed like the only sane option. Instead of doing that though, I headed to the mall with the excuse of buying Jethro new baby bottles.

Predictably, like the money pit that it is, the mall just about siphoned off my payday money. There is a reason why they put the baby section on the third floor, so that on the way there you will pass by several floors and empty your wallet at every turn.

So now, in addition to the baby bottles, I am laden with a flowing, mod-print black skirt, a dusty-pink flowered skirt, yet another a sleeveless shirt, two baby bowls, and a pair of sunglasses.

I never knew I needed all these things until the mall took me by the arm and whispered into my ear, “Shop, you must shop.”

And now, instead of heading straight home, I am sidetracked by a cleverly placed internet cafe where I just downed yet another cup of coffee and a panini sandwich. A bit dazed, I sidle by the computer and before I know it, I am sitting on this stylish bar chair, blogging away my P25 to tell you all how I got suckered yet again by consumerism, on God’s holy Sunday. No rest for the wicked, that’s for sure.

I better get out while I still can.


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