Coffee: Bolivian Medium-Dark, Trader Joe’s Brand; I couldn’t remember if I’d ever had it and now that I’ve tried it I know that I had; it’s sweet on the first gulp, sour on the second, and by the end of the pot your insides are grumbling like two old men arguing about Nationalism.
I spent half an hour in a Target yesterday trying to find some face cream. We’re getting to winter, the dry cold breaks me out.
The Target was already packed for the holidays. One of the clerks told me they were having a 10% off giftcard sale, so maybe that’s why. It’s a big store, one of those they like to slap ‘super’ on the side of, but even so the aisles were jammed and frustrated families were snagging their carts together. In other words, nothing special for the season.
I’ll tell you a secret: I like those sorts of crowds. I like the sounds of it: all those voices stacked together like a layer cake. I like the nervous energy, the coy competition, the fervor around a bright yellow sticker with a price on it. I’m sure there’s a bucketfull of issues about consumerism and wage inequality stuck in there (some of which I’ve probably brought up on this very blog), but despite that, the holiday department store is the closest thing you get to a communal event in modern America and I’ll take what community I can get.
I found the face cream on an aisle I thought I’d already been down. It was hiding beside a few bottles of shampoo.
Novel Count: 14,846 words
Currently Reading: Autumn, Ali Smith; Cherry, Nico Walker
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When I shop, the world gets better, and the world is better, but then it’s not, and I need to do it again.Sophie Kinsella