Decadence.
Nov. 24th, 2006 07:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enteleinDespite the toil of slow buses on the To part of the journey, I can say that being at home now with a small cup of Aztec hot chocolate (not as spicy as I had hoped, even though I made it a little more than double strength), a thai lemongrass candle burning, and various other decadent sundries sitting in the kitchen made the excursion worthwhile.
I wonder if there's some sort of technical term or recorded phenom that is similar to what happens to me nearly every time I shop. It's as if I encounter some sort of selective blindness, maybe a child of basic anxiety or something. In other words, I must've done at least a half dozen rounds of the sections of the store I knew I needed to go to, but yet didn't see the things I needed until I was almost at the end of my rope.
Shopping-as-a-hobby, or shopping-for-pleasure is something that's pretty alien to me. I still don't prefer to do it, but I knew I wanted to try and get out of the house today, so I made myself get there and have a short list of things to look for. Part of my problem is relying on brand recognition. I was looking for crystallized ginger, for example, and every time I've been to the store, I've scanned quickly for the round canisters in white or gingery gold near the baking supplies. No dice this time, and I was excited for a nanosecond to see a label on one of the bulk bins for 'organic crystallized ginger,' but it was completely empty, with a sticker noting that it was completely out of stock.
It wasn't until I returned to the bulk section a third time that I finally saw some re-sealable bags of ginger sitting on a ledge between the top and bottom rows of bins.
This continued to happen for everything else on my list. Happily, I found just about everything I had come there for (and then some, causing my bank account to squirm a bit), but I felt worn out and a little cranky.
I had some great bus karma on the way home, though: an express bus had pulled to the stoplight by a regular stop, and though at first the driver shook her head at me through the door (and I nodded understanding), she relented and popped open her door. I hopped up, scanned my card, and made it to the next stop in time to grab the second bus within 2 minutes.
So now I am sipping this chocolate that has cayenne pepper in it (but not enough!), and the thai lemongrass candle scent that I've been purchasing for years and years now is filling the living room and slowly banishing the faint cooking smells still left from this morning's breakfast. I've been straightening up CDs and putting videogames back in their cases.
It's quiet inside, with a bunch of traffic out there in the world, a lot of people noisily talking as they walk by my windows. I'm lonely, but mostly content. I am trying to be patient. I am trying not to feel guilty about a little decadence.
I wonder if there's some sort of technical term or recorded phenom that is similar to what happens to me nearly every time I shop. It's as if I encounter some sort of selective blindness, maybe a child of basic anxiety or something. In other words, I must've done at least a half dozen rounds of the sections of the store I knew I needed to go to, but yet didn't see the things I needed until I was almost at the end of my rope.
Shopping-as-a-hobby, or shopping-for-pleasure is something that's pretty alien to me. I still don't prefer to do it, but I knew I wanted to try and get out of the house today, so I made myself get there and have a short list of things to look for. Part of my problem is relying on brand recognition. I was looking for crystallized ginger, for example, and every time I've been to the store, I've scanned quickly for the round canisters in white or gingery gold near the baking supplies. No dice this time, and I was excited for a nanosecond to see a label on one of the bulk bins for 'organic crystallized ginger,' but it was completely empty, with a sticker noting that it was completely out of stock.
It wasn't until I returned to the bulk section a third time that I finally saw some re-sealable bags of ginger sitting on a ledge between the top and bottom rows of bins.
This continued to happen for everything else on my list. Happily, I found just about everything I had come there for (and then some, causing my bank account to squirm a bit), but I felt worn out and a little cranky.
I had some great bus karma on the way home, though: an express bus had pulled to the stoplight by a regular stop, and though at first the driver shook her head at me through the door (and I nodded understanding), she relented and popped open her door. I hopped up, scanned my card, and made it to the next stop in time to grab the second bus within 2 minutes.
So now I am sipping this chocolate that has cayenne pepper in it (but not enough!), and the thai lemongrass candle scent that I've been purchasing for years and years now is filling the living room and slowly banishing the faint cooking smells still left from this morning's breakfast. I've been straightening up CDs and putting videogames back in their cases.
It's quiet inside, with a bunch of traffic out there in the world, a lot of people noisily talking as they walk by my windows. I'm lonely, but mostly content. I am trying to be patient. I am trying not to feel guilty about a little decadence.
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-25 01:53 am (UTC)I am glad you got out of the house today, and that you went ahead and pushed yourself to do it. Decadence is good therapy sometimes, so don't feel bad about it. You are fantastico.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-25 04:48 pm (UTC)::nods (mostly), hugs::