details.

There are many things I love about living in a city - shopping is not one of them. There is no such thing as a quiet store in a city. Apparently everyone is always shopping, because stores are always packed full. For this reason, a trip to Target is a real endeavor for me. I try to get there as early as possible, literally as the doors open. I make out my list in order of where things are so that I can get in and out (yes, he would say that). I know some people love shopping and dawdling and wandering through the store - me, I hate it.

When I'm in a Sunday afternoon-packed Target, trying to wield a cart filled with toilet paper and laundry detergent, I become blind with rage. I lose my ordinarily magnanimous love of humanity, my understanding that everyone is just trying to get by. Before my eyes, everyone becomes evil and everyone is trying to trap me behind their carts and wild children and NO ONE WILL GET OUT OF MY WAY. I also often make the mistake of being a little hungry or a little dehydrated when I’m shopping. This very quickly turns into dehydrated hanger - the worst kind. Literally the only time I ever buy beef jerky is at Target. I don’t know. I’m hungry and confused with rage and there’s always beef jerky at the checkout. Why?

I’m happy to report that I braved Target this weekend, and hopefully this trip’s supplies will last for several months. If you’re ever at my apartment and wonder why two people should have approximately 100 rolls of toilet paper stored in their bathroom, it’s because I don’t want to go back to Target.

I sat down to tell you something lovely and inspirational about my weekend. I organized our bookshelf and did the thing where I sit surrounded by stacks of books, feeling very nerdy and happy. I saw some fun little plays (one of which Jake directed!). I went for a run (oh glory, my knee is on the mend). I hung a bulletin board over my desk and I framed some prints of Wellfleet. I baked a loaf of bread and roasted a spaghetti squash. I discovered this blog and read every post. But somehow...

Somehow I have come back to the real down-and-dirty details of life. Details such as needing toilet paper and storming through Target like a bull pushing a shopping cart to get it. Anyway, I hate to pretend that life is always high and profound for me. I write that way sometimes and it isn’t true. But the details mean something too.