29 October 1997: Sweat and Shopping

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treeSweat and Shopping

After my class I had a good workout, doing 395 floors. After a week off for the blizzard on Friday and feeling poopy Monday, I thought that was pretty good. Then I took the bus only as far as the mall about equidistant between work and home. My goals were my Ski 3 card from Gart Brothers and thigh highs from Victoria's Secret. Two unnecessary expenditures: the first, because Alpine skiing really is way expensive and at least with Nordic you don't have to buy a lift ticket; the second, because nylons are so annoying and expensive but I refuse to wear hose. Thigh-highs are the only way to go.

Before I met RDC after his class, at Bed Bath & Beyond, I browsed further. I must be old and in the way; there's so little I like. One thing that frightened me was what I did like: short kilty skirts displayed with waist-length cardigans with big buttons worn over a turtleneck. To like this frightened me because it is so Old Lyme and because it is so Old Lyme circa 1985. Laughing at myself, I went into Talbot's, to test myself, but I turned back about two feet in, because of the neon clothes on the far wall. I didn't go into the anchor department stores and I didn't like anything in Ann Taylor. I didn't see long full skirts in prints anywhere, and that's what I want.

In the Nature Company, I saw one of CLH's presents, though I didn't buy it. It's Art Spiegelmann's new book, Open Me, I'm a Dog. Maybe I should find the book NCS bought for me, The Story of a Little Mouse Caught in a Book. Also in the Nature Company, I saw a display of those wands, 18 inches long or so, filled with a liquid in which are suspended a handful of sparklies. A gravity in action toy, except that the whole binful, about a foot square, had not been played with in so long that they were all naked on top. In large handfuls, I commenced turning them upside down so the sparklies could play, and I didn't leave until the bin bristled with the glittery butt-ends of sparklies dropping. When I was a child, passersby probably considered such activity cute (or annoying and indicative of poor upbringing). Now that I am supposed to be a grown-up, the same activity might be thought to indicate lunacy. Poor grown-ups, never having any fun, feeling threatened by others' play.

In BB&B, RDC and I bought satisfyingly hausfrau-ish house stuff. But I shouldn't call it Bed Bath & Beyond anymore. After the Simpsons Halloween '97 episode, I should call it Bloodbath & Beyond.

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Last modified 11 November 1997

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