The frogs were croaking as I walked past the ditch this evening on my way back from the Mall, crying out for mates. Earlier, on my way to the Mall, I saw a guy booming music out of his car and giving a group of girls a look of longing. That is what I thought of listening to the frogs sing.
I went to the mall this evening to do some 'ratting. I have money from tips and it wants to hop from my pocket and cram itself into some clerks sweaty fist while I leave with Futurama Season 3, or The Critic, or Dilbert, or The Office, or The Simpsons Season 3, or King of the Hill Season 2, or something that I haven't found yet. I don't need to spend my money. I want to, but I don't need to. I would have, if the Mall wasn't closing as I cruised through.
It was six and, apparently, the Mall closes at six on Sunday. The Mall closing is quite different than the Mall opening. In the morning, the Mall is quiet, soundless. The hum of the escalators are the only thing to be heard. The floors are so polished that to look at them is to be blinded. The few people there are sipping Starbucks or nibbling Cinnabon. At closing, it's a mad rush for the door. People shoving past people. People ducking under metal grates lowered from ceiling. Pay strollers pushed erratically toward the stroller dispenser. Kids trying to sit on the Easter Bunny's lap, one more time. Babies screaming their heads off at pooped parents. And a last call for young couples to prove their love by depositing drool in each others mouths, but ultimately being ignored by almost everyone.
I prefer the Mall at opening.
I spoke with Venus this evening. She didn't have anything to say to me, but it was nice speaking. She listened well and left it to me to answer the questions I asked. She's a good friend to have.