While I was stomping through the aisles,
backwards and forwards,
I was forced to listen
to an endless loop of Christmas jingles,
a tinny, badly arranged, flat, featureless
cacophony of sound.
The more I resented it
the more obtrusive it became.
I went through those aisles
like a thing possessed,
with every step I took.
I actually came across several people singing
along to the atrocities on the sound system!
I have no idea why they stared at me
and gave me and my trolley a wide berth.
I was still fizzing with nervous tension driving home.
How much more civilised it was
to sit after dinner and write Christmas cards.
A few chocolates, a glass of mulled wine
and a CD by the The Sixteen playing quietly.
Sublime. My rage melted like snow in the sun.
Posted as prose over on her site Friko's Musings
Line Breaks by Glenn Buttkus.