Days 1 - 6 - December 25-30, 2010 Brain Rewiring

The redirection of my brain to thinking about my consumer habits is proving to be interesting. I frequently say I hate to shop, and wouldn't be caught dead in places like Bloomingdales or Macys because the mark-up on their merchandise is shocking. Carsons has to have a really big sale in order for me to go there, and even then it's only to buy Clinque products (which they never have on sale) or clothes. My stores of choice are: Target, Wal-Mart (Don't slay me with all the political stuff about Wal-Mart, please. I can make an argument either way.), and thrift stores.

My favorite shopping experience of all time was a huge old warehouse called The Smokestack in Frankfort, Michigan. Frankfort is a little resort town on Lake Michigan. Their public library is one room, and they have a five-and-dime in the heart of town. The bars and restaurants close in the off-season, and the barbershop doubles as a gun shop. The one thing this little town had was the perfect shopping experience. The Smokestack building was a catacomb of rooms that had been added on over the years. The floor was made of concrete and was uneven from room-to-room; it was easy to trip as you turned a corner leaving the building supply room to go into the electronics room. The roof had leaks in it, and the merchanise came from the area residents who didn't want their stuff anymore. If you needed some esoteric thing for your cottage while you were up there in the North, you went to The Smokestack because it was likely you'd find it. The warehouse was like a huge unorganized garage sale. Granted, the rooms had themes of products, but everything was a big jumble on shelves, in boxes, on the floor, or wherever they could set something. If you wanted an ironing board, you'd most likely have to remove several blenders, a George Foreman grill, and antique blue canning jars from the top of it before you could haul it up to the check-out area. Over the years of going there, some of the more entertaining things I saw for sale included a boat shell with a big hole in the hull Jaws-style ($6000), a package of used foam curlers ($4.00), and thousands of cutlery and other kitchen utensils (25 cents a piece). I could list a 1,000 things and every one of them would be there, tucked into some dark little corner. If you were ambitious you could walk around the warehouse that had to be as big as a football field if you could stretch it out, and find your item in three different places, ranging in price from 99 cents to $18.00. It was the hunt that was so much fun; so on rainy days when we couldn't go to the beach, we'd go to The Smokestack and dodge the buckets of rainwater collecting as it was was pouring from the roof, while looking for a gem. I couldn't wait to get to The Smokestack every summer, but sadly, my favorite shopping venue was violently torn down and replaced with condos in this little beach town. Frankly, now that The Smokestack is gone, I don't know where everyone is going to entertain themselves on rainy days, or when they need to find a black ribbon for an old Smith-Corona typewriter. Maybe craigslist or eBay, I guess, but it's not the same. Wherever those indoor garage sales are housed, I'm sure the roof isn't leaking.

So if this is my idea of the perfect shopping experience, you can believe me when I say shopping isn't an obsession for me. And that's why this challenge is interesting for me because I'm quickly realizing that I've underestimated my shopping tendencies. Today I found myself out and about, returning products that I bought before Christmas, and seriously thinking about buying something else in the store. All the little products they put at the cash register for a quick grab-and-buy, made my return at the Dress Barn a challenge when I saw a great pair of earrings. No.

Then I needed to buy gas for my car. I drive a Prius, so I buy gas every 4 weeks, and I try to buy gas only at CostCo because they are usually 10 cents less than anywhere else. A week ago buying gas would've been a luxury, today it was a necessity -- the little beeper went off and the gas gauge was flashing. So, I purchased $25.00 worth of gas, and as I drove home I went passed the street where The Village Treasure House in Glenview is located. I started thinking that I 'needed' a head and foot board for one of my bedrooms. Force of habit -- near the store and I need something. I almost went just to look to see if they had any head boards (and all the other cool things they sell. Now that I think about it, The Village Treasure House is the North Shore's answer to The Smokestack. People bring their 'junk' for resale. Of course the Treasure House wouldn't dream of selling used foam curlers, and their roof is sound.). I decided against it. What if I saw the perfect head board? I wouldn't be able to buy it because technically I didn't need it. The mattress and box spring are doing just fine sitting on the floor. Luxury. I had to admit that maybe I'm more of a consumer than I originally thought.

This is worrying me a bit because I'm trying to throw a party without having to go to the grocery store. Friends are coming over on New Year's Day to play games, and everyone will bring something, but surely there will be something that I'll need to get, right? I'll have to invoke the luxury vs necessity rule. One good thing is that there is no need to worry about the games -- I own a bunch of them. I rarely could convince my children to play games with me, so they are in the basement waiting for when I have grandchildren -- the games, that is.

Can I throw a party without buying food? This might be the ultimate challenge because I don't want to throw a Mary Tyler Moore disaster party. That being said, I have all the beverages I need, and people will bring appetizers and desserts. The question is: Can I get someone to bring sandwich buns and vacuum cleaner bags? Vacuum cleaner bags? I just discovered that my vacuum bag is full and I don't want to put this in the necessity category because I hate vacuuming. I think I'll say vacuum cleaner bags are a luxury for sure, and that way I won't have to vacuum. How convenient it would be if I could get one of my guests to bring sandwich buns, vacuum bags and vacuum for me!

Day 6 and I only purchased gas for my car -- a necessity.

Hanging in there,
Karrie