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Recovery curves

After another full day of work yesterday, I steeled myself for one of my more hated responsibilities of mundane existence: clothes shopping. I do this maybe twice a year, because I hate it so much. I find the choices, the images, the people, and the spending of so much money independently overwhelming— corporately (pun optional), they make for a nasty experience. After a little more than an hour, I left with sunglasses, sneakers (bringing the pairs of shoes I wear up to a grand total of three), two pairs of jeans, four pairs of shorts (the preceding all with a waist two inches smaller than my last, a pleasant surprise), and five or more solid colored t-shirts (I am a simple man and don't really want to wear many logos).

Spent the remainder of the night recovering and trying to feel normal. By the end of my brief foray into overcrowded commercial hell, I felt small, ugly, drained, and nauseous.

I do like having sunglasses again. I've been a bit light sensitive since my early teens, if memory serves (many things changed at once then, even more than for the average adolescent). I feel a little like Morpheus of The Matrix in them, which isn't a bad thing: I've held out the red pill and the blue pill more than once, watching my fair share of people swallow each. Our missions are not dissimilar, though mine is hopefully less fictional.

Today is my sister's 35th birthday. I need to e-mail a gift certificate (our traditional exchange across the miles, and not in a bad way) and give her a call. We have been out of touch of late: a reflection of great busyness and stubbornness in our lives, I suspect. Grace between us, however, tends to be immediate.

A woman with glittery wings on her back walks her small dog past the window. I love my neighborhood.

Enjoying my second Victrola visit of the day after a late lunch at Zootie's Cafe (Zootie's Grinder once again approached sandwich perfection). A good day to be out of the apartment, to read and to think. Ordered an iced latté, got a hot one, took it back. That may not sound like news, but usually I just accept mistakes like that in life because they don't happen too often and I don't want to be an inconvenience, which is utter silliness. Life's too short to drink the wrong coffee.

Life is too short for so many things.

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