I also went to Perros Gyros

Yesterday, I found out just how boring my life is.

Kylie and I wanted to go somewhere yesterday. We weren't stuck at home for any reason, what with Kylie being able to drive/having a car, so we decided to go out. We sat, at our breakfast bar, her eating cookies and me sipping juice, trying to think of anywhere we could go. Not downtown, it was too expensive and too far. Not in Flossmoor, too expensive and too boring. This continued for at least half an hour. Finally, having exhausted all other options, we decided.

"Lincoln mall?" I asked, mostly to myself as we settled into car on the way out of the garage.
"Where else?" she said, her neck craned behind her so as not to run over the garbage cans she hadn't brought back to the house.
"Well," I said, hand extended under my chin to catch the crumbs from the Milanos I was eating, "At least it's got a bookstore."

After stopping at the bank, and taking the long way 'round, we arrived at the mall. We walked through its barren parking lot into Carson's, one of the few major retailers remaining in this ghost mall.

"Why are we here?" I asked, as we blazed through men's wear.
"No idea." Kylie answered mechanically, swserving suddenly to avoid crashing into a colonge display.

We emerged from the department store into the bustling atrium. All right, so it wasn't bustling, and the atrium is about the most pathetic mall you've ever seen. But still, it was light filled, and had it not been eleven-thirty on a Tuesday mornig, you might have heard excited shouts of children and witnessed frantic shoppers whizzing by....

We walked. Through the southwest wing, and nothing. Through the east wing, and nothing. Through the nothwest wing, and still nothing. It was time to go upstairs.
Finally, after covering the majority of the second level, we saw it.
"Look, Krissy, Bargain Books!"
"Finally!"
Our pace quickened, and soon, we were in the entry of the saddest, emptiest bookstores we had ever been inside. There were no shelves, only long, unorganized tables, labeled with signs that said "SELF-HELP", "HUMOR", "SPIRITUAL" and "NEW ARRIVALS: FICTION". This bookstore sucked. Until, that is, I saw the sign.
"Kylie!" I half-yelled, pointing at a children's easel with a poster propped against it.
"Art, photography, and literature, 50% off!" I read. "Where's the art, photography, and litereature sections?"

After some quick searching, we found it. A whole corner, right behind the stacks of "One Hundred Easy Wiccan Spells" and "The Christian Soldier" (both on the "SPIRITUAL" table), was devoted to art and literature. Some Doestevesky for $1.50, Best American Non-Required Reading for $2.00, and so on. All half off! We spent, easily, twenty or so minutes, thumbing through art books, and sorting through stacks of literature. Finally, hands full, we staggered to the checkout.

So there. Be sides the library booksale, that was my excitement for the week. And so, I have concluded that my life is, indeed, just as we all suspected, boring.