I start back with my freelance gig, copywriting a catalog, next week. It occurs to me that I have no word processing capabilities - as far as I can discern - on the new laptop. I'm going to the Apple Store before Monday. I'm not looking forward to the crowd. Boo crowds! I hate you, crowds, and Apple is always a mess.
I am also in the market for a watch. I'll have to pop into Target and pick up a new Timex this weekend. Target will not be crowded and I can get Starbucks right there in the store. So much better than Apple.
My third shopping excursion may be to West Elm in search of rugs. My pine floors downstairs are splitting like crazy and need protection. Plus, Greg (ahem, Not George, I guess? Have I named him yet?) is painting and we're turning everything white. New rugs will be so much fun for my pets to poop and puke on. I can't wait for the poems on the futility of domesticity that will pour forth while I'm cleaning up after them. That's inspiration you just won't find in the Apple Store.
This is my rock and roll love letter to you.
1 week ago