all this and Scandinavian fish, too

    A day off today, which couldn't have been more perfectly timed. Met the Cat in R-ford--we'd initially planned for W-field, but neither of us really needed to do that sort of shopping and it seemed less financially risky to head west rather than east--at 10. She came armed with a (rather long) list, while I was typically disorganized and aimless. We wandered around the mall (CV) with no serious purpose in mind, popping into stores at random, clearly there more for the company than for the retail opportunities. "Clearly," I suppose, to ourselves and other shoppers, but not to the clerks of a few stores, who tried their level best to foist products and services upon us. The worst were the lingerie mafia (VS), who looked like they'd seen better days, and the smelly stuff brigade (B&BW). My least favorite moment took place in what had to be a cover for a head-shop, given the odd mix of products that were displayed: swords, replica Borg heads, all manner of dragon miscellanea, and quite a lot of cutesy ceramic farm animals. When we were as far into the store as one could be, I glanced toward the cash wrap, only to see the two clerks (?) absolutely glommed onto each other, kissing with so much tongue that I could hear it 25 feet away. We were leaving anyway, but that made the decision to do so that much easier.

    As always, I was not allowed into Abercrombie & Fitch, nor Hollister. *pout*

    Lunch was at a new place called the Brick Beagle...or something like that. We were seated in an alcove in old-fashioned rattan wing-back chairs, and looked like we were wearing Elizabethan collars. Our waiter was an earnest young man who hails from somewhere south of here, but who was also playing up his accent - to good effect, I thought. The Cat seemed less impressed. The food was pretty good, but the high point by far was the bizarre waiter at the next table, who, for emphasis during conversation with his patrons, plunked his hands onto his rear. It had the effect of, to us, appearing that he'd just enthusiastically grabbed his own ass, and from maybe three inches away from our table. It was hilarious.

    After lunch there was more shopping, and then we headed back to my car. At the last moment, we took a short detour and stopped for a drink at a chain sports bar. The very young, possibly gender-confused (but adorable) bartender had a heavy pour, so I stopped with one Bacardi-lemonade, but the Cat's more advanced tolerance allowed her two Bacardi-Cokes. Apart from being accosted by an overly-touchy dude seeking signatures for a ballot petition, it was the perfect way to end the day.

    As I got into my car, the phone rang. Summoned back to reality by the delivery guy's request for attention. I returned the message and came home. It only took one trip to lug everything upstairs, though it was a bit ungainly: the new rugs for my bathroom were all in one bag and surprisingly heavy, and there was a liter of something, too. And a giraffe, among other things.

    Once everything was put away, my plug was pulled. I fell asleep, hard, and only woke when the last truck was picking up across the street. I've been reading ever since, until about ninety minutes ago, when I realized that I never got a response to that text message that I sent this afternoon. I logged in to my Sprinxtel online account, and what do you know: 3 messages that were never sent to my phone, sitting in my inbox. I really cannot replace this terrible service fast enough.

    And, hey, it's 1:30. Maybe I'll go get some sleep.