Last night the boys and I celebrated by watching the Mary Martin/Cyril Ritchards broadcast version of Peter Pan. On a new TV which doubles as a computer monitor for me, so it’s a space saver and tax-deductible cos I’m a writerly sort who writes writeful things for money.
I hate shopping. But I needed it. But I hate shopping. But can’t someone just bring it over? Ugh, I went to the store at 3PM on a Tuesday to avoid that “going shopping” feeling. It’s pretty, and not hyooge, and it fits in my computer armoire, so I can hide it. Crucial.
I still felt a little ill sticking it into my car yesterday, even though it was way on sale and I even escaped getting sucked into the extended warranty at B*st B*y. The dude who looked like Tracy Morgan from SNL? Totally didn’t get that commission. Because, see, I want you to help me. The worst thing you can do if I walk into your store is leave me alone because I’ll most likely just get overwhelmed and leave. I have questions, dammit! Your job is to be available enough for me to catch your eye when I need advice, and distanced enough to not make me uncomfortable. Like a good waiter. But that guy left me, like, three times and I found someone else to sell me electronics.
I’m feeling a bit better this morning, after setting it up and arranging components.
And now I’ve just figured out how to dim the backlight so my eyes are not accosted by the vast white expanse of Word. Now to work. Latkes tonight.