And I have half my writing quota left to do, plus a strong urge to say "meh, screw it," and work on art or sewing. This afternoon I did in fact say so, and went shopping instead. I am loathe to do this for things other than materials or household needs, but there were Concerns.
See, my much-beloved messenger bag is finally biting the dust. The strap wore through several weeks ago and I've been using the bag a big knot tied in the remnants to keep it on my shoulder. But it's starting to go in another spot, too, and was about halfway through. Normally I'd just pull off the strap, go get some cotton webbing at Jo-Ann's and voila! new strap. However, the bottom seam's starting to go, the edges are wearing through on all the pockets and the whole bag smells faintly....weird.
This is enough bad factors to get me into the car and out to the Milwaukee army surplus. Unlike Champaign Surplus, which is a camping store with very expensive military stuff tacked on, this one is the real deal, complete with weird murky odors and proprietors who look like they suspect samadi
and I are secret Commies. New messenger bag was thus $10. This one has fewer pockets, but more space. I was specifically shopping for something that'd hold a fat 9x12 sketchbook comfortably, increasing the changes of my being Art Equipped wherever I went. It also has enough pockets for the phone, music device, wallet and checkbook, which is all that I really require. ( See! the amazing canvas bag. )
While out, we also went department store diving. I have a bit of twitch whenever I go into one, from what felt like eternities of school shopping when I was a kid. However, I now control the car, so when I get bored, I can just go home. Mwahaha! I am drunk with power.
I now have 3 relatively nice reeeeeeeallly stretchy T-shirts from Kohl's, for a touch over $15 total. This I can live with, even if they're not quite as good as the used one I have in the same brand (which I want clones of, oh my.) Peculiarly, I seem to be a medium, of all things. In what world am I a medium? I have sixteen inch biceps. Colors are weird this year, so I ended up being fairly drab. The alternative is a range of shades that turn me bright pink and make me look feverish.
Food continues weird. We have now reached the point where it doesn't taste bad and the idea is not nauseating, but things remain peculiarly unappealing. If I don't keep an eye on eating, I forget about it and end up headachey and slug brained, unable to figure out what has happened to me. Current calorie count for the day: 1000ish. Body, you are going on notice. I had a half bowl of gnocchi for lunch. It tasted good, but I got bored about 2/3 of the way full and had to make a point of finishing it. I am torn between being concerned and an old and evil delight that for once I have the ability to not eat. Weight is, of course, up. Working to hit that second urge with a hammer.
Anyway, I'm off. Virtuous Grace will make dinner and do her work. Non-virtuous Grace will eye the kitchen warily and spend the night sewing. Which will it be?