Why did dinosaurs became extinct? Why do wars begin? Why do corporations pollute the air and water? Why are politicians dishonest? Why do people smoke? Why does my sister Annsley love to shop? Of all these important questions, the one that concerns me the most is the last. I have spent countless hours shopping with my sister, and am usually a willing companion. But invariably. a trip that is a quick jaunt for Annsley is an endless marathon for me.
I buzz through a store in ten minutes, tops. Annsley is excruciatingly thorough and patient, spending about twenty minutes just snooping around, testing the waters. The next ten or twenty minutes go to finding something she likes and soliciting my opinion, and then another ten or fifteen minutes trying it on. When she comes out of the dressing room I am expected to provide an eight-hundred word critique on the outfit. She looks, turns, looks, and makes a decision that often disregards my careful critique. It is not uncommon to spend forty-five minutes in a store and walk out empty-handed.
After an hour or so, I've had enough. I've given up on giving honest answers; I say that I love everything. (When I say that I don't like something, she asks why I don't like it, and this prolongs the agony.) I just try to find a comfortable chair or a good spot on the floor, singing (or humming) along to all the terrible songs playing on the intercom. After five shops or three long hours (whichever comes first), I carry Annsley to the car. As we leave I'm as happy as a puppy with a new toy, and usually more hyper. I've been sitting for too many boring hours and am an off-the-wall Jared. I don't know why my sister shops, nor do I know why I go with her, but I'm sure we will do it again.
-- Jared. Essay "Why Does My Sister Shop?". 1996