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My most comfortable pair of Reeboks were excruciating and my tongue was a piece of tattered felt; I could kill for a G & T but day's end would be but a leg of the journey. Was I at war, in the trenches, ready for another shelling to spray my comrades? No, I was just trying to find a working clock in the 3rd section of the market place in an IKEA store in Round Rock, Texas.

Very clever of the Swedes: there's no clock so if you've been cavalier and forgotten your wristwatch, you're done for. But it's the most wonderful time of the year in America, and one must do one's part. Truth be told, if we don't break at least five of the seven deadly sins, it just ain't Christmas.

"Sir, do you have the time?" I mouth raggedly to a man in the kitchen gadgets aisle.

"Ten of," he replied wearily.

"Uh-ten of what, if you don't mind."

"Ten of five, Ma'am. Long day?" He chuckles.

"Yeah, thanks. Long season." I'm turning away when he remarked,

"Well next time you're in this store, wear a watch-their most ingenious marketing plan is the lack of working clocks within sight of customers! You're gonna spend the day here."

"Oh Lord." I laughed too at this point. "No wonder we seem to camp out at IKEA. Well, Merry Christmas to you," I called cheerily, immediately catching my non-PC greeting with chagrin.

"Thanks but I'm Jewish." He laughed.

"God love ya," I said. And we both laughed.

"Yeah," he added, "biggest mistake we Jews ever made was not to have a Christmas-it's so much better than Hanukkah for retail."

We went our separate ways, both seeking the check-out lanes, miles from where we were.
IKEA is popular in many countries, but it's easy to see why Americans are wild for the place. It offers cheap, colorful and well organized STUFF, has something for everyone and even though you aren't always sure what you've bought, or how to assemble the neatly packaged gizmos, you're delighted with the prices.

In America we're obsessed with cheap crap, and seconds-stores or overbuy outlets are more popular than ever. Entire malls are dedicated to outlets from the major design establishments, although it's hard to imagine why. . . do we need a rack of pink Polar Fleece vests in sizes 2 and 3? How do we justify taking home bags and bags of slightly dented picture frames or cute tins of tea with torn cellophane wrappers? Because it's there. All over the place, it's just there.

Tuesday Morning is an establishment so crammed with department store overbuys they have to close early on Mondays in many locations, in order to make room for new shipments on Tuesdays. The store is so crowded near the holidays it takes hours to get in and out, and by the time we check out we're so drained we contemplate the meaning of life and not in a zen way.

We're dying of thirst, so we must, absolutely must try that new holiday diet cranberry limeade freezy super drink at Sonic, but once we pull into the parking place, neatly supplied with reading materials announcing in neon colors the latest ice cream drink, we're starving,so we order Tater Tots with Frito Pie Wraps, consisting of Fritos, chili and cheese neatly folded into a large flour tortilla.

By the time we're home, laden with the mountain of white plastic bags, we've ruined our appetites for a normal dinner, hopping instead into the shower, outfitted with automatic cleaning attachments and chrome dispensers of seven types of cleansing products. Hitting the sack, we think how great the sheets feel-they're 375-thread count Egyptian cotton in peach and sage, luxurious to the max. But we got them at Ross for 1/5 the normal retail price. Drifting off to sleep to that thought,we murmur with our last breath, "God bless America."

Learn more about this author, Cheri Long.
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