Shopping in hell and other tales.

I don't think I've ever confessed this, but I find the town of Schaumburg quite daunting. When I lived in Evanston and would head out there to Ikea, it wasn't so bad...you just stay on Golf Road for an hour (literally) until you see Joe's Crab Shack, then turn right. But that was generally the extent of my exploring. I might stop at something I saw on the way, but actually trying to find any specific shop was always avoided.

So imagine my joy when I discovered that the closest Body Shop--the place where I decided I had to get my mother's, aunt's, and sister's birthday gifts--was indeed in Schaumburg. Naively optimistic, I headed down Algonquin Road toward my destination. It couldn't be that bad, right?

The seed of stress for me in shopping in Schaumburg is not in the little strip malls that are everywhere on Golf Road, as Golf Road is about strip malls in every town: Evanston, Skokie, Niles, Morton Grove, Mt. Prospect, Arlington Heights; whatever it touches it turns to strip malls. No, for me, the stress lies in the obsession with naming everything Woodfield, thereby making it impossible to tell where anything is. See, there's a Woodfield Mall, The Streets of Woodfield (which is also a mall), and the The Shops at Woodfield. Hey, do me a favor Schaumburg, and stop with the incessant Woodfield branding. It's driving me nuts.

So, now that I've built you up with the anxiety I was feeling, I'm going to have to let you down. See, I went to the Streets of Woodfield, had some yummy Jamba Juice, drove over to the Woodfield Mall, then called the Body Shop and got easy directions, went inside, dropped a bundle of money, and drove home. Basically, the potential to have a really bad day was there, but I decided I didn't have time for a bad day, so I didn't let it happen.

Other potential reasons for a bad day: 1. I'm nursing a hangover. For the second Thursday in a row I feel like utter crap as the result of going to N's bar with him on Wednesday evening. It's a charming little Nascar-themed hole, and I say charming, because it has a real bar feel. No one drinks martinis (or more importantly, those hideous bastardizations of martinis), and there's really no "scene," just dollar draughts and plenty of Allman Brothers and Drive-By Truckers in the jukebox. I like it. I don't want to infringe on boys' night, but I like it. Anyhow, I'm not a shot-drinker, but when one is put in front of me (especially last week when I was challenged to drink the local Swedish evil-tasting stuff), I hate to mock local etiquette. You know, when in Rome or St. Charles or wherever. So I handle my beers, but then I have shots, and then I wake up the next morning not understanding why I feel like I'm dying. 2. I have to be ON ON ON at work tonight, because I think I'm closing by myself. I don't think I get a lunch break. Some weird aberration in the schedule, which you think I could control since I do the schedule now, but I don't really have any influence on the manager schedule. Too bad. Also, during my first hour at work I am training three people on Borders Rewards. And I haven't worked since Monday night, so I'm sure there's crazy stuff to get caught up on. I need to arrive early, read my email. Did someone quit in the last three days? Was someone fired? I can only hope, because, really, what we all live for is that little bit of manageable drama that keeps it all interesting at work, right?