Hang a luigi onto Main

Oof. I feel like I’ve done a death biathlon today. I did my usual 0-dark-30 neighborhood prowl, came home, somehow scrabbled together a reasonably comfortable and presentable bizcaz outfit for unseasonably warm weather, an outfit that I could walk in at lunch without suffering heat-stroke, and one that didn’t involve any of my shredded summer clothes. Not quiiite ready for those yet. Worked all day, came home, draaaaaagggged myself out of the Dogha and into the Landfill, changed clothes, and galumphed downtown to the Old Town for cocktails and food with the GG. After that, I was really ready to hoof it straight back home and fall into a coma but of course he wanted to walk around and shop and stuff. There were veritable crowds downtown tonight and while they seemed to energize him, they just made me grouchy. I am beginning to feel in rather desperate need of the sort of vacation that doesn’t double as a busman’s holiday and I am not going to get one any time soon and I was not in any kind of mood for big crowds tonight.

And then we went into my favo-rite store, one of those hoity-toity outfitter stores where they hire a bunch of ditzy nimrods to tell you that their manager won’t let them sell you that pair of shoes. And yes, that happened to me once. I was heading out to California and my latest pair of hiking sandals was about to bite the dust and it was February (and that’s a long procrastinational story) and my own personal nimrod searched high and low for a pair of women’s size 8 hiking sandals. And he found some! Beautiful Chacos that fit me perfectly and I even liked the color. But then he tried to refuse to sell them to me. His manager this and his manager that, blah-de blah-de. I was in the twilight zone. I insisted on buying the blasted sandals anyway. I wore them all over the SF Bay area and for a couple years after that. Until they literally broke in half. I do not give that store any of my cash any more and I didn’t tonight. Where do they find these idiots and why do they hire them?

Sorry about the rant. I was pretty grumpy at that point. I suffered through Borders and I managed to keep from bulldozing all the slow-going 20-something couples blocking the sidewalk and complaining to each other about how much their legs hurt. We were approaching the center of the universe Main/Liberty intersection and I couldn’t *wait* to get across there and start heading into the relative silence of the west side toward home. But the GG made me hang a luigi onto Main and I was really mad about that and then Dorn-whopper came into view and wow! I haven’t seen him in 15 years or thereabouts and somehow that edged me over into a little better frame of mind.

We’re home now and I am absolutely dead tired and the GG has just finished off the evening by smoking a cee-gar just outside where I am sitting. All the smoke was coming right back in the door and he was SPITTING!!! Sorry, I know that is TMI. Blech! And with that? I am done. Good night.

One Response to “Hang a luigi onto Main”

  1. Margaret Says:

    Why wouldn’t he sell you the sandals? That makes no sense to me at all. I am going to feel your pain next week after dealing with those darned teenagers again. Right now, I’m happy for company because I’ve been on my own a lot.