Winterday 22

Long Version

To do:
return too-small dog sweater*
find bigger one
buy Tylenol.

thirtyish minutes later, loudspeakeroutvoicing I should prob
ably bring my gluttony to the front, layout my purchases for
the world to see**, hunched over crappyplastic*** cart and sev
enth or 12th on line****, said craplastic cart spillingoverflow with
crappycrap from China******, twotoo****** many bottles of drugs
and enough twinseled garland that you just might thinktank*******
that Texas is on fire again on aisle 5. Eighty5$$******** and swoo
shed out of doors.

It's cold out, and maybe in
a way that should make me think
think . . . of
romance and fireside chats and doublecabledknitted tonguetied sweat
ers, and maybe those things do occur to me.

Aftered footnotes, et al:
* It's really a vest, quilted as if Katy might need quilted protection.
** Bean dip, cheese dip, pink glittered sticks. Snickering nearby.
*** I'm still ruminating on hives. JD, if you're reading this, you & the project are in my thoughts, but the good kind of thoughts that are running loose without judgment and confined quarters.
**** I think I might be an eastcoast-er. I'm snobby enough to be one. But likely too heavy to be successful with it.
***** I'm usually very selective with buying imports.*
****** I hope my tutu comes any daynow.
******* I belong with smarter people, creative people, not taking calls from pissy "customers."
******** The opposite of mindfulness.

* No, I'm not. But I wish I was. See **.