"Get exercise," they said

"Walk 3 times a day"

May I mention it is 32 degrees in the old money and blowing 20 knots out there?  We have a treadmill but it's a bit like being - er - on a treadmill unless I can judge my stride well enough to stay on the back end of the belt in which case I can watch the television while I trudge.  So what to do?  I have heard of Mall Walkers so it's time to join them.  Asheville is a civilised town where the mall isn't open for business 24 hours a day: it opens officially at 10 a.m. but flings its outer doors open earlier in the morning for people who want a bit of gentle air conditioned exercise.

It was more than a little pre-apocalyptic when I got there - most of the stores had a couple of light fittings on, presumably for security, but a fairly large number were completely lit up although there didn't seem to be any employees in there.  A total of maybe 20 people were walking laps of the mall - nobody jogging - and dodging the guy with the ride-on vacuum cleaner and vice versa.  

There are clearly unwritten rules to mall walking.  You must stick to the right and not cut corners - I don't think you're obliged to touch the end wall before you're allowed to turn round.  The vast majority of people are togged out in Lycra pants, sweat bands and presumably official Adidas mall walking shoes: I felt pretty self conscious in Levis, plaid shirt, Swannie and my reffing sneakers (they and my slippers are the only footwear I wear these days for the sake of stability).
It was a bit like a shop window mechanical Christmas display with the mechanised people following a well defined but invisible track around the right hand edge of the walls.  This is the kind of nonsense up with which I will not put so I set off walking on the left and cutting corners.  It didn't take long for the security department to catch on to me and come and beat me with their night sticks so that I would conform.

Walking round a mall isn't the most fascinating pastime (beats the treadmill) and my mind started to wander and to fantasise.  As I approached each group of right-hand walkers, I reached behind me for my trusty claymore and hacked them down, relishing the sound of their heads rolling on the carpet.  I made plans for when I win the lottery and buy Asheville Mall with the proceeds (if I really do that, you may have me committed).

Nobody has told the shop owners that it is snowing today - all the clothes shops are full of skimpy lace t-shirts.  And then there are the phones - there must be hundreds of people in Asheville who spend their lives buying new phones.  Otherwise why are there so many phone shops and kiosks selling cases for phones or repairing badly made $500 phones that break if you drop them?  But can you buy a Bandaid or an aspirin or tube of toothpaste?  Of course you can't.  And why no toy shop?  Are kids not allowed in the mall?  (I don't include Game Stop in the category of toy shop - "Be a good little girl and Mommy will give you a dollar to buy World of Warcraft.")  Who the heck installed those cosmetic vending machine with their constantly running ad loop?  Too Bladerunner for words - it must be fun working next door to one of those, even worse than working on It's a Small World at Disney,

Still, half an hour stomping round the mall was a good gentle workout and I'm grateful for the opportunity.  So much so that I decided to top it off with a stomp round Lowe's to check out forthcoming home projects.  This was quite successful, turning up an $88 toilet for the games room that I think will save 3" of precious space (it didn't and I didn't buy it), perforated plastic pipe to improve the drainage uphill from the house in readiness for next year's 100 year flood, another look at the proposed flooring for the basement bathroom, quick squint at a shower for said room (starting at $1,000 so that can go on the proverbial backburner) and failing to find preserved lumber that is suitable for ground contact to build some better steps from the patio to the lawn.

But now the time has come to head for school for another full day (first lesson at 11:20, finished at 3:30).  Tally ho.