<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d12702981\x26blogName\x3dSane+Nation\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://sanenation.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://sanenation.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-1594404027969036003', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe", messageHandlersFilter: gapi.iframes.CROSS_ORIGIN_IFRAMES_FILTER, messageHandlers: { 'blogger-ping': function() {} } }); } }); </script>

Thursday, November 24, 2005

FRIDAY BEFORE DAWN: It's a time when a whole lot of us will be converging on department stores to get the best possible deals for Stuff. At least that's what I infer from the full-page newspaper ads in the morning paper, heralding that the doors will open at 5:00am the day after Thanksgiving. Memo: I find this bizarre. Confession: I've done it. Last year I found myself on the road in what seemed the dead of night, to make it to the Disney Store to snag a collection of The Incredibles action figures for my son. I did it partly because I bought into the two-part hype: 1) Excellent prices for 4 hours! and 2) Supplies limited! Mostly I made the trek for what I can only call anthropological reasons. Having always wondered what would make a sane person head to a shopping mall even at a normal hour the day after Thanksgiving, I couldn't resist seeing/hearing/feeling what it would be like to be one of the earliest participants in a uniquely American ritual. Suffice to say the experience is a unique altered-state-of-consciousness, one without any noticable hangover. This weekend I'll spend in a slightly related mind-altering activity: packing up my stuff for the movers. Buy more Stuff? I already have too much — and I'm paying strangers to put it in a truck and drive it across town to a new residence, where I'll unpack ... and wait for the cable guy to show up.