Hedwig/Hansel Schmidt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beautifulandnew) wrote2016-02-29 09:58 am
beautifulandnew) wrote2016-02-29 09:58 am
[February 29 - one-shot]
Today, I'm left with the very distinct feeling that there really is very little left that retailers won't try to capitalize on in this day and age. Today, it's Leap Day. Tomorrow, who knows?
It wasn't even just limited to large chain stores, either. In town, there were very few shops without brightly colored banners or sandwich boards out front, all with keywords in bold fonts, advertising twenty-nine percent off this or twenty-nine month financing on that. Pay $2.29 for a dozen donuts and enjoy those twenty-nine pounds you're bound to put on after consuming them. Luckily, there's likely a twenty-nine day free trial at any give gym in the city to help with that potential problem. Kismet.
Days like today, it's hard to fathom that this city might be located anywhere else but in America.
I limited my time and money to one store and one store only that afternoon, refusing to get caught up in the consumerism more than I needed to. Shopping early hadn't been an option; balloons don't keep. Not that it really matters when the intended recipient will never actually lay eyes on them. Still.
Returning home later in the day, I only pop into my apartment long enough to drop off my things and feed the cat before heading upstairs.
I have no idea who lives in that fifth floor apartment, now, if anyone at all. That doesn't stop me from tying the obnoxious bouquet of balloons, a familiar looking unicorn at its center, to the doorknob.
He would have hated it, and knowing that makes me smile.
Tonight, when I drink, I tell myself that it will be in celebration, not sorrow. Maybe the alcohol will even be twenty-nine percent off, too. Or, at the very least, maybe I can find a twenty-nine year old to pick up the tab.
It wasn't even just limited to large chain stores, either. In town, there were very few shops without brightly colored banners or sandwich boards out front, all with keywords in bold fonts, advertising twenty-nine percent off this or twenty-nine month financing on that. Pay $2.29 for a dozen donuts and enjoy those twenty-nine pounds you're bound to put on after consuming them. Luckily, there's likely a twenty-nine day free trial at any give gym in the city to help with that potential problem. Kismet.
Days like today, it's hard to fathom that this city might be located anywhere else but in America.
I limited my time and money to one store and one store only that afternoon, refusing to get caught up in the consumerism more than I needed to. Shopping early hadn't been an option; balloons don't keep. Not that it really matters when the intended recipient will never actually lay eyes on them. Still.
Returning home later in the day, I only pop into my apartment long enough to drop off my things and feed the cat before heading upstairs.
I have no idea who lives in that fifth floor apartment, now, if anyone at all. That doesn't stop me from tying the obnoxious bouquet of balloons, a familiar looking unicorn at its center, to the doorknob.
He would have hated it, and knowing that makes me smile.
Tonight, when I drink, I tell myself that it will be in celebration, not sorrow. Maybe the alcohol will even be twenty-nine percent off, too. Or, at the very least, maybe I can find a twenty-nine year old to pick up the tab.