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A Day in the Life
Oct. 20th, 2001 12:09 amI meant to build shelves today, but instead I bought a guitar. This is a fairly decent summary of the way my life works -- I do get the happy ending; it's just never what I intend it to be.
It was so innocently done. I decided to check the downtown area for a hardware store in lieu of going straight to Home Despot, and I stumbled across the historical district. Mostly, this involves thirty antique/architectural salvage stores in a four-block radius.
In case you're curious, this approximates my idea of heaven.
Imagine someone tapdancing down the street singing Cole Porter songs, and then remember that this is the sort of thing I actually do. Or did, in this case. Oh yes, there was kissing of the hands of shop owners.
So after about four hours of looking at depression glass, edison records, primitive furniture, and pillbox hats, I decided it was about time to head home.
Oh no. First there was a parade. It was the local high school's homecoming.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, I purchased a very nice guitar for an incredibly low price, befriended several area musicians and the ballroom dance teacher, and bought an Indian footstool.
Later on, I and many of my friends went to the old county prison (since converted) for dinner, and were carded (apparently, I look 17). I got drunk on one glass of wine, which is quite an accomplishment, but of course I'd barely eaten all day. I wound up falling down in the middle of the street, but was saved by my Judo instincts and got up with narry a bruise.
Then of course we went to the grosto and bought an eyelash curler and a shabbat candle, and oggled pictures of attractive women (or in my case, the latest issue of Scientific American).
Good times; good times.
It was so innocently done. I decided to check the downtown area for a hardware store in lieu of going straight to Home Despot, and I stumbled across the historical district. Mostly, this involves thirty antique/architectural salvage stores in a four-block radius.
In case you're curious, this approximates my idea of heaven.
Imagine someone tapdancing down the street singing Cole Porter songs, and then remember that this is the sort of thing I actually do. Or did, in this case. Oh yes, there was kissing of the hands of shop owners.
So after about four hours of looking at depression glass, edison records, primitive furniture, and pillbox hats, I decided it was about time to head home.
Oh no. First there was a parade. It was the local high school's homecoming.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, I purchased a very nice guitar for an incredibly low price, befriended several area musicians and the ballroom dance teacher, and bought an Indian footstool.
Later on, I and many of my friends went to the old county prison (since converted) for dinner, and were carded (apparently, I look 17). I got drunk on one glass of wine, which is quite an accomplishment, but of course I'd barely eaten all day. I wound up falling down in the middle of the street, but was saved by my Judo instincts and got up with narry a bruise.
Then of course we went to the grosto and bought an eyelash curler and a shabbat candle, and oggled pictures of attractive women (or in my case, the latest issue of Scientific American).
Good times; good times.
