Sunday, July 31, 2011

What I Spent Money On Today

Today was a day for running errands. Of course, when it's over 100 degrees, you don't really "run" anywhere. You sort of ooze from the car to the store and back again, grateful that there's air conditioning on either end. Because here in Dallas it's hot enough to melt a Jell-O mold.

Those yellow things, however, probably would survive a nuclear bomb.
Anyway, when there are things to be done, that means there's money to be spent. Today wasn't a very expensive day, but I wound up with an eclectic collection of purchases. I thought I'd share them. Because I got nothing else.

First stop was the drugstore. I was out of fluoxetine, better known as generic Prozac.
I have a bad habit of running out of it and then not refilling right away. You never know, maybe my hormones finally decided to balance themselves out and I no longer need my shiny happy pills. That's what I think. I'm always wrong. But I don't know I'm wrong until I go a week or two without them and inevitably have a meltdown. The meltdown was yesterday. I'm pretty sure Beloved Spouse still loves me. I'll ask him when he comes down off the roof. Anyway, now I have my pills again, and life is buttered popcorn and unicorns.

You know what I love about my prescription? Other than being 42% less crazy and not wanting to go Norman Bates on loved ones and/or strangers, I mean. This is what it says on the back of the bottle:

Well, duh. Of course I experience mood changes, sadness, depression, and fear. That's why I'm on Prozac. My doctor doesn't want me calling her for that shit. That's why she wrote the damn prescription.

So. Next stop was the music store. Precocious Daughter is starting clarinet lessons this year. It's time to rent an instrument and soundproof her bedroom. In the clarinet rental department, we were assisted by the charming, British, and adorable Colin at Arts and Music in Lewisville, Texas. Did I mention he's British?

Actually, Colin looked nothing like Thin White Duke-era David Bowie. Good thing, because the accent alone made me sign up for online guitar lessons in additon to renting the clarinet. I would have bought a tuba and a full drum kit if he'd asked me to. Did I mention he's British?

So here's the clarinet in its little box, wrapped in plastic like so many lampshades in your grandmother's house. And there it will stay until PDaughter's music teacher instructs her on its care and feeding. I know she wants to take it out and put it together and make horrible squawking sounds with it ASAP. I figure there will be plenty of time for her to induce level-5 headaches. For now I prefer the clarinet shiny and dismembered and unable to launch an offensive against the tranquility of the house.

From the music store we hopped over to the mall. I'm thinking of redecorating PDaughter's room. I'm thinking, and she's obsessed with the idea 24/7. She wanted to look at comforters. Unfortunately, not one of them met her aesthetic standards, which are, in her words, you know, sort of, and like, all kind of, but not, only more like that. With purple stripes.

So we didn't find a comforter, but I bought a hat.
I love hats. I look great in hats. It's literally my only talent, looking great in hats. This one flew off the wall onto my head and refused to come off until I agreed to buy it. Seriously, that's what happened. Since it was on sale, I couldn't say no. Also, it pulled a gun on me. I bought this hat in self-defense, is what I'm saying.

Then I went grocery shopping and bought a bunch of food and toilet paper and things that aren't at all exciting. Unless you're all, Ooooh, cling peaches in syrup. In that case, it was the Best Shopping Trip Ever. But I did buy a lipstick.

It's from L'Oreal and it's called Tropical Coral. And I love it because it actually looks the way I want my lipstick to look: Like the color of my lips, only not gross. I have a lot of lipsticks that make my lips look bright pink, or bright pink, or bright pink, or, you know, bright pink. Never mind that their names include words like "mauve" or "plum" or "totally not bright pink, trust us." No matter what they look like in the tube, they look like a Disney Princess sleeping bag on me. My body chemistry must closely resemble the formula for Pepto-Bismol.

But this one looks good on me. Sort of peachy pink and natural. Sort of the way PDaughter's lips look without doing a damn thing. Which is so unfair. On the other hand, it's a good thing she doesn't need to wear lipstick. That stuff would be a bitch to get off a clarinet reed. I'll bet Colin would be happy to help. I'd probably walk out with three new boxes of reeds and a left-handed ukelele. Hey, if that's what it takes to get our economy moving again, I'm willing to make the sacrifice.

Did I mention he's British?

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