One Who Wanders (abiona) wrote,
One Who Wanders

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I am doomed.

I think the accidental week and a half off irritated the ruling demons of retail hell, because next week, I'm scheduled to work 38.8 hours ... six out of seven days. This has to be kharma in action. If I had not enjoyed that mysterious time of freedom, and if I actually did like this job, this so wouldn't be happening. I must repeat to myself, "Some money is better than no money. More money is better than some money," though I am reminded of past attempts to use this technique (say, my tutoring position), and it never made it any better. Perhaps it's time for a modification! "Money equals food! Money equals housing! Money equals transportation!" I am not much more inspired by this, I am afraid, but it helps to resign me.


I dug my suit out from the piles that had consumed it (this was no easy feat!), donned it, and set off, clutching my resumes close, as I hoped to protect them from the rain that blew in sideways under my umbrella. I arrived early (as usual); accordingly, the interview happened earlier than anticipated, and ended before it was scheduled to start. It was over in minutes! While I think that they liked me, such a short session does not give me too much to go on. Hopefully I will hear from them soon.

Though I did not have to be at the department store for some time, I did not want to go home. The day seemed to have made up its mind to be pretty wet, windy, and miserable. Remembering that I had just deposited a check that my grandmother sent me for my birthday, I felt a bit cheered and resolved to treat myself by taking care of something that has been troubling me for the past several weeks: my nondescript hair. Since I had not really seen any chain names I was familiar with, I decided that I would simply go into the first salon that I saw, and take it from there.

I'm mostly accustomed to cheap places that deal with hair alone, but the salon I selected seems to be one of the types that gathers a standard set of clients. (I now have a business card, an actual card, from the lady who styled my tresses.) They offered to take my umbrella and scarf to the coat rack for me, dealt with me instantly though I was a walk-in, shampoo/conditioner seemed to be a default part of the procedure ... and hair is not all that they consider themselves expert in. I recognized sections for nails and tanning, and what I was fairly sure were these foot massager recliner armchair thingies.

I discussed what I thought I wanted, went through various small talk, and took off my glasses, leaving myself to this woman's mercy. I am pretty badly nearsighted, with various astigmatisms of something that do something to my vision, but I have forgotten precisely what. I can only see general fuzzy objects, no details ... so when I look into the mirror, my face turns into an alien skull with two noses and a big chin, and other people meld with the environment to become soft abstract objects. In this particular salon, all I could focus on was this big red bouffant mystery on a nearby employee's head, and thinking that it was some sort of marvelous blessing that she was doing nails and not giving other people hairdos. Was that really her hair ...? Maybe it was a hat. Or a helmet. Or maybe a scarlet flying squirrel!

Chin-length at the longest, rather bluntly cut, and much lighter than my longer locks, I think I like the results so far ... though I am going to give the style a few days to prove its true nature. One advantage I have is that my hair grows out fairly quickly, so should this particular haircut go strange on me, it will not be long before it is a mundane mess again.


I am getting pretty desperate on the shoe front. Standing for a long period of time isn't really comfortable, no matter what you wear. Good shoes, however, can minimize or delay the onset of pain. Digging around in boxes, I found an old pair of brown leather shoes that have a wooden heel ... I used to wear them all the time, so often, in fact, that a good chunk has been worn out of the pine. I assembled my "professional" outfit for tomorrow around these battered (but if recollection serves, pretty damn comfy) shoes. The result turned out to be lots of neutrals ... a pretty drab look. But tomorrow [Edit: At time of posting, now "today"] is my birthday, and I want color! And so my tendency for sock rebellion arises once again.

You can't really wear toe socks over nylons, unless your stockings happen to have a bunch of runs around the foot area. But I am not to be put off from my quest so easily! I found an old pair of toe socks that had definitely seen better days, and hacked off the toes, turning it into a legwarmersockmajig. I will have my color, I hope. I wonder how long I can get away with wearing them.

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