Yesterday I experienced what can only be described as speed-shopping. I was on my way to meet my family for my mom's birthday lunch. She chose a restaurant about 45 minutes from my apartment which happens to be somewhat near my favorite store in the world which I haven't been to in ages. By somewhat near, I mean that you would head south down the highway about 20 minutes, and instead of merging onto a west-bound route, you would hop onto the same route but headed east.

Meanwhile, my mom called to say they were running late and that I should poke into a nearby store. I didn't need any more encouragement than that, even though it was a race against the clock and my adrenaline was pumping. Approximately 25 minutes before I was due to meet my family at the restaurant, I pulled into the parking garage and took three escalators up to the main floor, running when possible instead of passively riding. I then took the remaining four escalators up and checked my watch as I ran toward the store like it was the promised land.

Upon entering I felt giddy, I couldn't believe I was there. I had seven minutes to get back down to my car. I made a beeline for the sales section, tore through the racks, selected three shirts and rushed over to pay for them. I then flew back down the thousands of escalators and out of the garage.

As I was driving to the restaurant I felt better, calmer. Even though being late was unavoidable, I was relaxed as only a post whirlwind-shopping-trip can induce. And luckily enough, the three shirts fit me, even though I didn't try them on at the store. So, speed shopping - no nonsense, just run in, grab a few things, and leave - I may be onto something.
  ¶ 5:12 PM