“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 643 (Sunday)

Sparkles!

Today was my annual eye exam at the eye doctor. The only thing wrong with the eye doctor is the same thing that makes it convenient. It's in the Pheasant Lane Mall, so the days and hours are convenient, but dang, the mall. 

Being at the mall on  the Sunday before Christmas felt really dumb, but this is the current annual schedule. When I arrived, the parking lot was busy but not horrible. Inside, it was much less crowded than expected.

I arrived early, which allowed time to wander around and enjoy the thrills of the showroom of bathrooms and the center aisle table which I first read as “Roofie King” but was really for Roofing King which makes more sense. Not having been in a mall since last year's eye exam and it not being super crowded, it was actually enjoyable.   

Santa!

Before the exam, I was on the upper level looking down to the lower level at the Santa photo setup and  the line waiting for photos. In line with the people with infants and toddlers, some decked out in red and green holiday outfits, some in flannel, was a female around 20 or so, with jet black hair, dressed all in black in an ensemble somewhere between goth and punk and with a huge red and green sequin bow on her head. She may have been the most interesting looking person in the entire mall. All the other shoppers blended into a boring swarm of jeans, sneakers, and branded sweatshirts, but the girl in the skirt with the ripped tights and combat boots took the day. As cute as all the little girls twirling through the mall in their ballerina skirt dresses were, goth girl was my favorite and I hope her photo with Santa came out how she wanted it. 

The exam was fine, but the selection of frames was dismal. They didn’t have anything even close to the frames I’ve been looking at online for a month. However, they finally have the frames I wanted three or four years ago (which I got years ago elsewhere).

On the drive home I stopped for gas, which turned out to be an adventure. When the tank was full, the pump didn’t automatically shut off, and gas started shooting out of the tank. It was on my jeans and my hand before I could release the latch on the pump. I went inside and told the person working that the pump didn’t shut off and he looked at my soaked leg and gave me a bunch of paper towels. Because of the overpowering stench of my new gasoline cologne, the stops at Market Basket and Marshalls were cancelled. It was a race home to strip off the wet and smelly jeans.