Aggravation (143) Anxiety (94) April Fool (1) Bitchiness (65) Bobby (84) BP (7) Burning in Hell (36) Bush (66) Calme au Blanc (13) Catholic Church (33) Charlotte Cushman (11) Cobalt Blue (26) Confusion (11) Crime (22) Daily Life (145) Dangling Conversations (46) Deep Thoughts (47) Depravity (29) Depression (45) Divertissement (15) Embarrassing Moments (17) Family (44) Friends (110) Frozen (15) Fun (60) Gay (67) Gertrude Stein and a Companion (19) Glass Menagerie (34) Good Things (72) Government (58) Gustav (16) Hate (20) Holidays (36) Hope (37) Hugging the Shoulder (6) Humid City (9) Humor (155) Hurricanes (3) Internets (8) Jesus (5) Justice (6) Katrina (119) Latrine (15) Life in the Quarter (353) Louisiana (12) Mardi Gras (85) Mark Rylance (1) Movie Stars (35) Music (22) Nagin (20) New Orleans (126) News (28) Nighthawks (29) NOLA Partee (1) Obits (12) Our-Leaders-in-Their-Wisdom (111) Outlaw City (126) Personal (405) Photography (532) Pity Post (11) Politics (79) R I P (12) Religion (20) Retirement (11) Righteous Shit (24) Sadness (37) Saints (19) Search-Engine Crap (20) Sex (34) Sick Humor (61) Silly Stuff (151) Southern Decadence (22) Striking Words (23) Stupid Shit (217) Take Me Out (41) Tattoos (18) Tennessee Williams (65) The End (1) The Human Comedy (15) Theatre (510) Thinking Blogger Award (1) Thrill Me (37) Treme (7) Valhalla (42) War (28) Weekly Photo Challenge (41) Weird Shit (9)
Thursday, December 13, 2012
It began in the deep, dark hours of the night with a dream I had of being Peter Pan. It was a jolly good dream. I'm told I made flying motions all across the bed, clanged blades with Captain Hook, saved Wendy, Michael, John, and all the lost boys and even screamed, "Do you believe in fairies!?"
I also saw the bruises and welts I left in the legs and torso of the other person in the bed with me who did not share my dream.
But it was a wonderful dream, and it set the tone for the rest of the day. It would turn out to be a day in which I would enjoy myself.
We had shopping to do, so we set off for Lowe's, our first stop, where I intended to buy Bobby a Christmas Light Tester. You can never have enough of those, and he, for some ungodly reason, didn't have one to his name.
Being the efficient shopper that I am, I asked the greeter at the door where I might find this wonder. She directed me to the electric light section of the store. I figured this might not be the direction I needed to go, since a Christmas Light Tester seemed to me to be a seasonal item, but I went anyway.
I was right in thinking her wrong, but another Lowe's associate directed me over to the Christmas-stuff part of the store.
On the way, I passed the Keurig setup and lingered over the display of all the different coffees available. I bought a big box of some rich dark roast. I do not like dark roast, but it looked good there on the shelf; and, hey, it's Christmas. Maybe I can give what's left of the box to somebody else, a gutterpunk sitting on the sidewalk or something. 'Tis the season, after all.
Still looking for the Christmas Light Testers, I came across another Lowe's employee who confirmed to me that I was getting warmer, just a few more aisles to go.
Finally, there they were. I grabbed one from the back of the stack (I never pick an item from up front—too many people have pawed over those) and went on to look for cushions.
Bobby had been complaining about a sore back, and I thought a nice cushion for his Barcalounger might help. Would you believe they were only two aisles away from the Christmas junk? How did those people know I was coming?
Surrounded by all that plush, I thought, wouldn't it be nice to buy a little cushion for Winston, too, so he can bring it with him on our theatre sallies and experience a little tushy comfort on those hard seats?
Done and done.
The next stop was a clock-and-watch shop on Gravier Street. Bobby wanted to get his old retirement watch repaired, and I wanted some expandable watch bands for the two Stauer watches Bobby had ordered through the mail and made me wear with their nasty faux-leather bands.
Done and done.
Next was lunch.
A lady-blogger friend had recently recommended a Japanese restaurant way up on Prytania Street, way, way up, like past-Napoleon-Avenue up. You see, Bobby likes sushi, so sushi Bobby got. The sushi here was edible (I can't say it was good because I don't know sushi like you know sushi), the service was delightful, and that Japanese soup that usually tastes like plain hot water with slices of mushrooms and shallots floating in it had flavor. Even the two ladies who invaded my space by taking the table right next to us instead of any one of the other empty ones in the whole goddamn joint, they turned out to be sweet, as well.
For someone who had recently self-diagnosed as an anhedoniac, I was positively pleasuring myself all over this town! I was something to see.
I even later went out to my neighborhood bar and pleasured everyone there. There was just no holding me back.
Of course, it passed. These things always do. But with a little rest, who knows? I may yet go another round before this year is up.