Eat, Pray, Wander Around

It was a very conscious choice. Caught between the worlds of my son and my wife, I chose to find my own way. It was a very spiritual quest. I might have stayed back at the house, listening and watching as my son and his best friend waged Lego war upon one another or set out on video game adventures to save the galaxy. This held no specific appeal to me, since I understood that this was their special time together. Likewise, when my wife decided to go see "Eat, Pray, Love" with her best friend, I would be hanging on the edge of a planet that I just barely understood.
Instead, I chose the road less traveled. Initially I had a vision of going to see a movie by myself. I had a few to pick from, but the timing at the neighborhood superfaplex made the whole process bog down in minutiae. Instead of simply buying a ticket to sit through a movie that I had no real interest in, as I have in the past, I sent the ladies in with my best wishes and then proceeded to spend the next two and a half hours exploring the mall.
My first stop was the Barnes & Noble. There were two floors of books and magazines to keep my interest, and obviously there were parents and friends hanging out in the comfy chairs, doing that thing that I was attempting to do: filling time. I considered picking a volume which held passing interest and finding a seat. Then the voice of the grouchy book store manager came into my head, "This isn't a library, bub." Finding no book or magazine to which I could immediately commit to purchase, I left the store.
Outside, summer was asserting itself in Southern California. It was warm, but not oppressive. I continued to follow the sidewalks to where they might lead me. I went into a Sports Authority and made plans for the equipment that I would purchase with unlimited funds from my school district. I meandered still further and found myself in a Hallmark store, searching for an occasion for which I might buy a card. Lacking any real sentiment at the time, I returned to my path.
I found the places where they unload their trucks. I found the places where they dump their trash. I walked until I ran out of sidewalk. I sat on a bench in front of a Chili's and played Tetris on my cell phone. After a couple vain attempts at getting the tiny blocks to fall into tiny rows, I checked the time: There were just ten minutes left until my wife and our friend were to be disgorged back into the world. I went back to the entrance of the theaters and took my place.
They found me there, sitting at a table with an umbrella, looking as relaxed as I might be if I had been actively pursuing relaxation. I felt proud of my accomplishment. More than two and a half hours of daylight had been consumed by my trackless wandering. I tried to explain to them what an interesting experience it had been, since wasting time is something that I tend to eschew. But I had done just that.
When we got back to our friend's house, I wasted little time suggesting that we attempt to fix her bathtub spigot. We were able to remove it with little effort, and set off to another mall in hopes of buying a replacement. At last, I was purposeful once again.