this does not make me a consumer.

I go to the store, at night, for fun.

I don’t know, frankly, whether it’s a sign of ends which have become even looser, or evidence that my mood has picked up and I’m more motivated to seek entertainment. Surely it is, whatever else, a distraction--a means of presenting my brain with stimuli that will divert it from the doldrums of company that isn’t company, and conversation that, well, isn’t.

Actually, that’s why I’m partly looking forward a great deal to next Fall, when I’m no longer bound by the parameters of Gabe’s carpool schedule. Do stuff, go places, see things, write about them*...and not spend much time feeling the soggy, pervasive, and useless guilt that comes from feeling I should be able to entertain a presence who is neither entertaining nor entertainable.

And, for whatever non-ecological reason--I am better company to Jeff in the car. I can talk about something or nothing, he appears interested, and it’s ok that it won’t stick, or even be thoroughly comprehended.

*Yes. Write about places of interest that we visit and not the tiresome drivel of a brain in a rut.

This week I have done it twice. Once to the mall, (where I purchased jeans which I meant to acquire anyway,) and last night to Trader Joe’s, where I beefed up the larder. But without beef. Or lard. It was cold, and it was windy--but the thing is, I’m not minding the arctic chill. I’m just looking for fun. And the vacuum carafes of sampleable coffee, on the service counter at TJ’s is, yes it is, fun. And so are two lovely packages of chickenless nuggets.

I kind of wish they’d go ahead and tell us what Gabe needs for his housing situation next Fall, although I don’t expect to learn more details until this summer. Because, then we will acquire them. And that will be fun.