And now, a few more comments on life in Florida.
There is a genetic trait that affects mostly, but not exclusively, women when spending time in Florida: Shopping.
In the case of the affected men, the scope of their interest is limited to stores where the merchandise has to be plugged, downloaded, programmed, contains screens, speakers, hard drives, tools, lenses, keyboards and instruction booklets the size of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Women, on the other hand, will go to any store where the merchandise has to be worn, eaten, decorated, or requires the hiring of Halliburton to install in the bathroom of the condo. The installation usually costs several thousands dollars more than the value of the property.
The stores in Florida that cater to these genetic needs are indeed very interesting and merit a closer look. The average mall or store is large enough to qualify outside the United States as a city-state or a principality. As a matter of fact, I have visited malls where each store was the size of St. Peter's Cathedral. The bicycle section in the super Walmart in my neighborhood could easily handle The Intrepid, and I am sure that Sam Walton would not object to selling aircraft carriers. After all, everything else is sold there.
What caught my attention the other day, was seeing old ladies, yes, widows of the Civil War veterans mentioned in a prior entry, go shopping there. When you see these ladies in an airport, they require a wheelchair to transport them from the ticket counter to the plane. Distance, 72 inches. Yet the decrepitude exhibited in the airport suddenly disappears when the store is the size Monaco and contains 25 miles of aisles. Tell a lady in Brooklyn to take a walk from Flatbush Avenue to Newark Airport and she will certify you as insane. Yet, put the same lady in a store which requires walking this distance between the underwear section and bedding. and she will walk faster than a marathon runner. Of course, this speed can be increase by strategically placing "sale" signs.
Which brings me to the subject of sales. The other day a World War I veteran, whom the Civil War veterans call "Junior", was was proudly explaining how he saved 50 cents by going to Delray to buy strawberries. Distance 11 miles each way. Even in a hybrid that must have cost him more than 50 cents
I was going to do the calculation, but I must stop blogging. My wife is waiting for me. We are going shopping.
There is a genetic trait that affects mostly, but not exclusively, women when spending time in Florida: Shopping.
In the case of the affected men, the scope of their interest is limited to stores where the merchandise has to be plugged, downloaded, programmed, contains screens, speakers, hard drives, tools, lenses, keyboards and instruction booklets the size of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Women, on the other hand, will go to any store where the merchandise has to be worn, eaten, decorated, or requires the hiring of Halliburton to install in the bathroom of the condo. The installation usually costs several thousands dollars more than the value of the property.
The stores in Florida that cater to these genetic needs are indeed very interesting and merit a closer look. The average mall or store is large enough to qualify outside the United States as a city-state or a principality. As a matter of fact, I have visited malls where each store was the size of St. Peter's Cathedral. The bicycle section in the super Walmart in my neighborhood could easily handle The Intrepid, and I am sure that Sam Walton would not object to selling aircraft carriers. After all, everything else is sold there.
What caught my attention the other day, was seeing old ladies, yes, widows of the Civil War veterans mentioned in a prior entry, go shopping there. When you see these ladies in an airport, they require a wheelchair to transport them from the ticket counter to the plane. Distance, 72 inches. Yet the decrepitude exhibited in the airport suddenly disappears when the store is the size Monaco and contains 25 miles of aisles. Tell a lady in Brooklyn to take a walk from Flatbush Avenue to Newark Airport and she will certify you as insane. Yet, put the same lady in a store which requires walking this distance between the underwear section and bedding. and she will walk faster than a marathon runner. Of course, this speed can be increase by strategically placing "sale" signs.
Which brings me to the subject of sales. The other day a World War I veteran, whom the Civil War veterans call "Junior", was was proudly explaining how he saved 50 cents by going to Delray to buy strawberries. Distance 11 miles each way. Even in a hybrid that must have cost him more than 50 cents
I was going to do the calculation, but I must stop blogging. My wife is waiting for me. We are going shopping.
3 comments:
I would laugh, but we'll be down in Feb. and I can't wait to hit THE FEA-MARKET~aka...SHOPPING
I CAN RELATE TO BEING MARRIED TO A WOMAN WHO WILL DRIVE MILES OUT OF THE WAY TO SAVE 50 CENTS!
I'm getting married in June. It now feels a lot closer.
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