I thought I would get the last seasonal gift in with the cardigan for
monshu that finally arrived in the mail yesterday, but the privilege was his due to a downtown shopping expedition today. Someday, when I finally stop begrudging myself the money to pay a shrink, I will find out why exactly I have such a goddamn hard time buying myself anything which costs more than about $25. On the ride back I blamed my mother, but that can't be the whole story since my siblings don't seem to be similarly afflicted. In any case, thanks to the Old Man's patience and generosity, I know have five new shirts in a reasonable array of styles. I promised to let this spur me to weed the closet, but the moment I set foot in it I weakened. Maybe I'll feel differently tomorrow.
Speaking of the ride, we had such unbelievable CTA karma that I worry we've blown our allotment for the month if not the year: very nearly perfect connexions there and back again. We didn't exactly sail in either direction; one driver was dawdling in order not to get ahead of schedule and the next was contending with slippery fresh snow. But sitting in your choice of seat wondering why the bus isn't going faster is worlds away from standing in the snow asking when the frigging thing is going to get there, so no complaints. Okay, one complaint: The windows were so coated in salt it was almost impossible to catch a glimpse of the striking snow scenery crawling past. But again, if that's what's most important to me, I could get out and walk.
And the snow is pretty, but it could well be the death knell of tonight's cocktails. Already I've had a half-dozen cancellations--mostly claiming illness, but the prospect of an hour or more in the car trying not to fishtail is apt to change your view of a little sniffle. I'm almost hoping that no one comes and I can curl up with a book. But there should be plenty of opportunity for that tomorrow. We have no reason to leave the house--there's food for days upon days--and all that's expected of me is a little laundry.
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Speaking of the ride, we had such unbelievable CTA karma that I worry we've blown our allotment for the month if not the year: very nearly perfect connexions there and back again. We didn't exactly sail in either direction; one driver was dawdling in order not to get ahead of schedule and the next was contending with slippery fresh snow. But sitting in your choice of seat wondering why the bus isn't going faster is worlds away from standing in the snow asking when the frigging thing is going to get there, so no complaints. Okay, one complaint: The windows were so coated in salt it was almost impossible to catch a glimpse of the striking snow scenery crawling past. But again, if that's what's most important to me, I could get out and walk.
And the snow is pretty, but it could well be the death knell of tonight's cocktails. Already I've had a half-dozen cancellations--mostly claiming illness, but the prospect of an hour or more in the car trying not to fishtail is apt to change your view of a little sniffle. I'm almost hoping that no one comes and I can curl up with a book. But there should be plenty of opportunity for that tomorrow. We have no reason to leave the house--there's food for days upon days--and all that's expected of me is a little laundry.