$98 saks

For almost a year now, there has been a hot pink Post-it affixed to my desk, to the right of my laptop, that has "$98 Saks" written on it.

Last winter I was given a sweater, which had been purchased at Saks, that I decided to return (I honestly can't remember what it looked like or what the "problem" with it was). It took me about 30 minutes to find the "sweater department" and another 30 to find someone who actually worked there to process the return. When I asked if I could get cash back, the salesperson explained that that was not their policy -- store credit it was.

Now, one year later, the holidays are upon us yet again (ugh, wish they'd give us some WARNING or something) and I still haven't gone in to Saks to spend the $98. About once a month, when I'm trying to come up with any feasible excuse to not go to the gym on a Wednesday night or I'm laying in bed reading magazines on a Sunday afternoon, I'll consider walking over (yes, WALKING... that's how easy of an "errand" this is!). But I just never do.

I'll imagine what I could buy with the $98, but my ideas always seem too dull (i.e. enough socks so that I never have to buy socks again for the rest of my life) or too unrealistic ("um, you think you are going to find a sports jacket at Saks for under $100? what is wrong with you?" a friend once berated me). A "nice" t-shirt? A "cool" tie? A present for someone else? "No," "definitely no," and "srsly?"

The hot pink Post-it has accrued all sorts of strange emotional connotations. It sometimes makes me think about how miserable I always felt during free periods in middle school, other times about the unopened The Wire Season 1 DVD on my bookshelf or the Microsoft Word files on my computer of e-mails I never ended up sending. I decided last night to tear up the Post-it, figuring I didn't need it (I would just know intuitively when the day to spend the $98 had arrived, I concluded)... but instead I rewrote "$98 Saks" in neater handwriting on a new green Post-it and replaced pink with green.