It was still pitch dark outside, but we each heard the other's bedroom doors creaking open. It was 4.30 am, on Boxing Day 2008. While the men snored, we the women, woke up well before our alarms blared, and tiptoed into the corridor. Rubbing our hands in glee, we set about discussing our plan once again. We would be leaving in 15 minutes, snuggly covered, and dashing to the nearest NEXT store. The chain was opening its doors at 5 am that day to economy shoppers like us. And we were not going to miss this for anything. Not even for warm quilts.
So 10 minutes later, after hurried bathroom visits, we sat huddled around the dining table, dipping biscuits and sipping tea noiselessly, occasionally giggling at a husband's snore. We shuffled out in the next few minutes, again without as much as a murmur, down the apartment wing, and out the main front door. The moment the cold air hits us, we burst out laughing.
Our hearts are filled with crisp wintery air, freewheeling joy, and a sense of great adventure. We talk strategies to bag the best bargains, schemes to nudge out competition. We see a car park in the distance, and another Asian woman accompanied by an almost unbelievably obedient husband, racing to keep tracks with us to the store. "Good lord, what is that man made of? And to think of our husbands snoring away back home, not a care in the world about their wives."
We arrive a minute after 5 am, and the store is already open with a handful of shoppers. We grab the nearest trolleys, and set about racing down the rows of clothes. Our plan is to bag anything that catches our eye, and leave the shortlisting to the end of our trip. I see that striped sweater that just a few days ago was way beyong my budget, and grab three sizes of it...just in case. I find my elusive (now aptly priced) winter jacket. Everything on my list and beyond is right there on the racks, with a tag I can look at without cringing. We pick up clothes for each other too, and glance at each from across the racks, as if sharing a secret code.
Two hours, and sifting through six hefty bags later, we are on our way back home. It is 15 minutes past 7, and we can see that streak of light in the sky. Arms loaded, we walk back to the apartment, unlock the door, and see that the men haven't stopped snoring. They indeed seem very comfortable under the quilts, blissfully aware, yet unaware of the brilliant time their wives have just had.
We gather in the corridor again, plonk ourselves beside the footwear, and start another round of whispering. We now have a relaxed look at each other's buys, and admire the smart deals. This has not just been a dawn of good bargains, this has also been a dawn of that unrestrained, uninhibited sense of fun that can only come out of girly bonding. And I've loved every moment of it.
