I went to see the allergist. All I needed was a new prescription for nose spray (to keep dust allergy in check), so we ended up talking about stuff which had absolutely nothing to do with any form of medicine (since I’m boringly healthy): the first show in 30 years for the sculptor Lee Bontecou; why Italy is so great; his upcoming trip to his native Montreal, etc. I wonder if it’s a relief not to have to talk about medical crap for a change?
After that, I stopped in to see a friend who works across the street from the allergist, and we went and had cappucinos, all civilized-like. Then I shopped my way home. I picked up some charming unnecessaries, like a couple of silver toe rings and a subtly sparkly top, along with less charming necessities, like something for dinner.
After I got home, I sat on the roof and answered emails and admired the view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Right now, it’s just about cocktail o’clock (I’m thinking Cosmopolitan. I’m feeling pink). Talk about the perfect lady of leisure day. Though perhaps shopping isn’t the best pastime for the nouveau pauvre. I can never help myself, though. Not that I really want to. I never do.