Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Blart. I'm kind of depressed. Don't want to write much. Also my office is cold; which I like better than it being hot, but it's so cold the nerves in my hands are dull and my fingers are stiff, which doesn't help my manual dexterity and keyboarding ability.
Just won the first eBay auction I've bid on since last winter (when I got some swan feathers for J.'s calligraphy; it's hard to find those anywhere but eBay). Must. Not. Get. Addicted. But, um, I really wanted it! And it has nothing to do with being depressed, really...well, okay, maybe. But that's better than if it was because I was manic. (When I'm depressed, I don't keep buying things; during my one full-fledged adulthood mania, I got myself $10,000 in debt in three months. Ack.)
I think I'll go to South St. on my lunch break and try to find a purveyor of magazines that isn't out of TV Guides (tried to buy one Saturday at the supermarket, but they didn't have this week's issue; and yesterday the convenience store across the street was sold out of them). And maybe a trashy gossipy magazine, like the Star, which Whitters of Polyester Bride recently wrote a sort of combined paean to/pan of, The not-so-noble printed word. Yeah, actually, I think I need that. Celebrity breakups and diets and fashion and bad plastic surgery, with lots of colorful pictures, and very short paragraphs: intravenous pop culture, please.
[ at 2:10 PM • by Abby • permalink • ]