Fridge/Man
Today after putting it off for weeks and weeks I actually went out and bought a fridge. It's a very lovely Fischer and Paykel, 411 litre, white because the chrome surchage of about $1000 was more than I could swing. It was a run-out model and I think I got a good price, even though the man at Harvey Norman wouldn't haggle at all.
I had purposely put this weekend aside to rest, forgoing a Dialectic, and yesterday I just hung out, read the paper, watched Sopranos (I just got season 5 recently, which I still think is the best one), and slept. Today I had lots of errands to do. I was also feeling achy and fat and a bit down emotionally, but I know what I need to do to fix that - exercise, eat right, get the errands done.
So, in pursuit of exercise, I walked back from the Supa Centa all the way up South Dowling to Oxford Street, where I had seen some nice tops in a shop across the street when I was having coffee at Berkelouw Books last weekend. I really need some nice tops for work - it's less and less a suit-kinda place (I was forbidden from wearing one last week to a pitch meeting because we were trying to come across as small and hip) and I just keep wearing the same three identical twin-sets (in 3 colours) that I got last year for $10 at one of those Chinese import places.
The place turned out to be mostly a jewelry store, but I found a rack of the tops in the back and started going through them looking at colours and sizes. Turns out they are embroidered tops from Bali, probably overpriced but so gorgeous, and each one different. Three people were running the store - an older lady, one of those ladies with dyed red hair pulled back in a pony tail and a smoker's face and big rings; a young lady, sylph-like with brown hair and perfect pale skin; and a young man. At first I thought the young man was with someone shopping but then he took up a place behind the counter near the cash register.
They don't really have a change room so I just went behind a curtain in the back and had to come out to look in the mirror. The tops go over a t-shirt anyway so I was just trying them over the outfit I had on (Eddie Bauer green t-shirt and Eddie Bauer cropped black pants, with red Monro slide sandals). The older lady had gone across to their other store next door, so the young lady was giving me feedback ("No, that's way too big, look at the shoulders. That green is nice on you.")
I went back to change the green one for a black one and when I came back out the young lady had gone to look for some more Mediums and the young man was there. I looked in the mirror and he looked at me in the mirror too, and we both agreed that the black one looked very nice. He came up behind me and said, "Hang on," and adjusted the collar around my neck so it was rolled just so. And then he kept doing that, and giving me feedback on fit and pattern for each new size I tried.
Now, this was not the kind of guy you typically see in an Oxford Street clothing store. He was a completely ordinary, boofy Aussie bloke. One of those blokes with a round head and cropped hair and jeans on, who might have played junior footy for some first-grade team but now just plays a bit of touch with his mates in the park on a Sunday. And this very straight, very ordinary Aussie bloke was evaluating me, my body, the way clothes fit and flattered or failed to flatter me, and then coming up and taking command and rolling the collar down. Swoon!
I bought two, needless to say - the pretty green one that the girl had liked, which is a Medium and fits more neatly looking shapely and elegant, and then the first black one that had impressed both the boy and me, we worked out because the colours were better than all the others, and we agreed even though it was a bit looser it was good to have one tight and one loose, to have options.
I had to spend some time down the street at Ariel Books just to calm down.
***
And the fridge gets delivered next Saturday so tonight I did the first of the book-moving project. My books are stored in five bookcases of five shelves each, all down the corridor from the front door to the main room. That leaves the corrdior about a person wide, and certainly not enough to get an old fridge out or a new fridge in. So my project is to move one bookcase at a time into the main room, all week, to get ready for Saturday. I did the first one tonight - took all the books out and lined them up in the hall, scooched the bookcase to the far corner of the lounge room by a towel under one end of it so it would slide, then put all the books back in - because there's no place else to store them. Welcome to "New York style loft" living. One down, four to go, but I feel very brave and independent for being able to manage it myself. Because I got nobody I could call to help me move furniture, at the moment.
But all my horoscopes have been talking about the conjunction of Venus and Mars and me finding true love this week. Maybe I will have to back and buy a necklace from the Aussie bloke at the jewelry store, and try to suss out if he has a girlfriend....
I had purposely put this weekend aside to rest, forgoing a Dialectic, and yesterday I just hung out, read the paper, watched Sopranos (I just got season 5 recently, which I still think is the best one), and slept. Today I had lots of errands to do. I was also feeling achy and fat and a bit down emotionally, but I know what I need to do to fix that - exercise, eat right, get the errands done.
So, in pursuit of exercise, I walked back from the Supa Centa all the way up South Dowling to Oxford Street, where I had seen some nice tops in a shop across the street when I was having coffee at Berkelouw Books last weekend. I really need some nice tops for work - it's less and less a suit-kinda place (I was forbidden from wearing one last week to a pitch meeting because we were trying to come across as small and hip) and I just keep wearing the same three identical twin-sets (in 3 colours) that I got last year for $10 at one of those Chinese import places.
The place turned out to be mostly a jewelry store, but I found a rack of the tops in the back and started going through them looking at colours and sizes. Turns out they are embroidered tops from Bali, probably overpriced but so gorgeous, and each one different. Three people were running the store - an older lady, one of those ladies with dyed red hair pulled back in a pony tail and a smoker's face and big rings; a young lady, sylph-like with brown hair and perfect pale skin; and a young man. At first I thought the young man was with someone shopping but then he took up a place behind the counter near the cash register.
They don't really have a change room so I just went behind a curtain in the back and had to come out to look in the mirror. The tops go over a t-shirt anyway so I was just trying them over the outfit I had on (Eddie Bauer green t-shirt and Eddie Bauer cropped black pants, with red Monro slide sandals). The older lady had gone across to their other store next door, so the young lady was giving me feedback ("No, that's way too big, look at the shoulders. That green is nice on you.")
I went back to change the green one for a black one and when I came back out the young lady had gone to look for some more Mediums and the young man was there. I looked in the mirror and he looked at me in the mirror too, and we both agreed that the black one looked very nice. He came up behind me and said, "Hang on," and adjusted the collar around my neck so it was rolled just so. And then he kept doing that, and giving me feedback on fit and pattern for each new size I tried.
Now, this was not the kind of guy you typically see in an Oxford Street clothing store. He was a completely ordinary, boofy Aussie bloke. One of those blokes with a round head and cropped hair and jeans on, who might have played junior footy for some first-grade team but now just plays a bit of touch with his mates in the park on a Sunday. And this very straight, very ordinary Aussie bloke was evaluating me, my body, the way clothes fit and flattered or failed to flatter me, and then coming up and taking command and rolling the collar down. Swoon!
I bought two, needless to say - the pretty green one that the girl had liked, which is a Medium and fits more neatly looking shapely and elegant, and then the first black one that had impressed both the boy and me, we worked out because the colours were better than all the others, and we agreed even though it was a bit looser it was good to have one tight and one loose, to have options.
I had to spend some time down the street at Ariel Books just to calm down.
***
And the fridge gets delivered next Saturday so tonight I did the first of the book-moving project. My books are stored in five bookcases of five shelves each, all down the corridor from the front door to the main room. That leaves the corrdior about a person wide, and certainly not enough to get an old fridge out or a new fridge in. So my project is to move one bookcase at a time into the main room, all week, to get ready for Saturday. I did the first one tonight - took all the books out and lined them up in the hall, scooched the bookcase to the far corner of the lounge room by a towel under one end of it so it would slide, then put all the books back in - because there's no place else to store them. Welcome to "New York style loft" living. One down, four to go, but I feel very brave and independent for being able to manage it myself. Because I got nobody I could call to help me move furniture, at the moment.
But all my horoscopes have been talking about the conjunction of Venus and Mars and me finding true love this week. Maybe I will have to back and buy a necklace from the Aussie bloke at the jewelry store, and try to suss out if he has a girlfriend....
posted by Ellen at 10:39 pm
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