Because Robbie and Kevin Said To

...and because Diane complained that my most recent post was making her want a kitten.

Oh, but she is a darling, sweet little thing (the kitten, that is - not to imply in any way that Diane is anything less than adorable, though I've never tried kissing her nosey, and suspect it would not be that favorably received if I did). Last night I woke up to find her (the kitten) sleeping soundly on my pillow, with her toes wedged up against my nose. I kissed her. She arched, purr-mewed, sighed, and fell back asleep in an even more impossibly adorable pose - taking up even more of my pillow, at that.

Hi, I'm Proto-Crazy-Cat-Lady. I'm almost finished!

But another great thing about the pillow-stealing kitten is that she wakes me up from dreams I really shouldn't be having. Last night I found myself in divorce court - peacefully enough, no problem there - but during a long recess I ended up alone in a waiting room with, with - oh, you know who.

At least in my dream he was willing to speak to me. "Hey!" I said to him, "I'm finally moving forward with my divorce!"

He displayed only polite interest, though, and after a few more minutes said he had to leave to go check his Facebook, and took off.

This isn't what is meant by the term "lucid dreaming," but it probably should be.

Robbie took me out on the town last weekend. We went and watched movies at Tony's. But first, Robbie had some shopping to do, which led to a totally new experience for me.

We went to the mall (you know, that place, with all the stores, where everything costs 800 million dollars and teenagers reach levels of inexcusable density) to buy cologne.

This may be more surreal than it sounds. Department stores have big glass counters, all under lock and key, stocked with every incredibly expensive men's scent you've never heard of, and staffed by young women who are almost, but not quite, entirely unlike Audrey Hepburn. Our sales representative, for example, did not know how to pronounce "euphoria." E-phoria, she kept saying. I think that's the sensation you feel immediately following cybersex.

We tested seven or eight different scents. The sales representative seemed less inclined to consider my opinion once she clarified that Robbie and I were not dating, because what do your stupid friends know? Still, we narrowed the choices down to one, Robbie purchased it, and we left to look at jeans. But there weren't any without aesthetically-placed holes in them.

It gets hard to find basic items of clothing, had you noticed? At work, I needed a blouse for our upcoming April conference. All four of us in our office wear the same one - we're the conference coordinators, so it's important that we can be singled out in the crowd, or so I'm told. This year two of us kicked up a fuss and insisted on blouses that don't have to be tucked in, because what could be more unflattering to your figure than chopping it in half?! Hello?!?!

We wanted a basic design: a tailored, button-down shirt, in a few different attractive colors, with a straight hem and three-quarter length sleeves. The four of us went at lunch last week to look. We might as well have gone shopping for emu-feather hats.

Not that this is informative or interesting. I'm only posting because Robbie and Kevin said to. And because Diane doesn't want a kitten. No matter how adorable they are.

Maybe next time I'll post some more pictures.

A Few Blocks Down from Godliness

Here, for posterity, is what my living room looks like on those staggeringly rare occasions when it's clean.

Isn't it cute? I don't know why there's that little half-moon in the front door, but I like it. Makes you think of an outhouse; not entirely accurate, as my house does have plumbing:

The kitchen is clean, too, but you've already seen that.

It's been just Eric and me, this Fourth of July weekend, and it's been kind of fun. Tonight we biked over to Zen for dinner. I've never eaten there before, but I did once buy a car from one of the owners. R.I.P., little Grungietta - she met her untimely demise at the tires of a pickup truck making a blind left turn into oncoming traffic; crumpled up like an accordion and left me completely unscathed. I miss her still.

But it's probably just as well that we went out to eat tonight, because last night, I cooked: pasta tossed with sauce from a jar and what was left of the bagged veggies in the freezer - sort of a pasta secunda vera... I do prefer good food to bad; but not strongly enough to bother cooking decently, though I draw the line at Cheez Whiz.

We went shopping yesterday, too - in the car, which, once we put some air in the tire, drove just as well as if it hadn't sat idle in the carport for three months or more. Borders had the most amazing book on treehouses, although if they're large and elaborate enough, with plumbing and wiring and finished interior walls and wood paneling and climate control and everything, you sort of start to wonder what, exactly, is the point? Still, a cool book. We had ice cream at Amy's, and I had an epiphany at Bath and Body Works.

Bath and Body Works is one of those stores where they routinely ask for your phone number while you're checking out. Why do so many stores do this? Is it so that, if it turns out their Warm Vanilla Sugar body spray causes leprosy (which would certainly explain these weird flaky red spots on my neck), they can call you and tell you to load up on health insurance? I kind of doubt it. I think they sell the information to telemarketers. It's always bothered me.

So my turn came at the checkout, and the clerk rang up my purchase, and I paid for it, and she said, "Your phone number starting with the area code, please?" and I did something that amazed me.

I smiled and said, "I'm sorry, I don't give it out." And - get this - she still let me leave with the stuff I bought. She didn't argue with me, or even act the slightest bit chilly, or anything. It was the most incredible experience.

Don't laugh. I have a hard time saying no. Really hard. My stomach was all quivery. I'm serious.

I thought about it while sweeping the living room and listening to Public Enemy. Fight the powers that be - especially when the main person oppressing you is yourself. And further thoughts along those lines just get me down.

But at least I smell good!