I suppose that I’ve never found a good enough
reason to appreciate shopping online, at least
for clothing, accessories (I wonder when I last
purchased an accessory; it has been eons, for
sure) or groceries. I have tried getting a few
items of clothing once; well, I was enrolled in a
job placement program that allotted two hundred
dollars or somesuch for business clothes, and
everything I chose came to me in a color that wasn’t
anywhere near the color it looked on the screen,
or the material was something I’d never imagined,
and most items, of course, did not fit me at all. I
can say the same for groceries, which I’ve attempted
to order online a few times. When I’d give in to doing
so, I’d always assume the experience would be easier
to manage financially and would have me being more
practical with my choices, so that I’d get more of what I
needed and less of what I’d never eat or use. But not
dollars or somesuch for business clothes, and
everything I chose came to me in a color that wasn’t
anywhere near the color it looked on the screen,
or the material was something I’d never imagined,
and most items, of course, did not fit me at all. I
can say the same for groceries, which I’ve attempted
to order online a few times. When I’d give in to doing
so, I’d always assume the experience would be easier
to manage financially and would have me being more
practical with my choices, so that I’d get more of what I
needed and less of what I’d never eat or use. But not
only did it turn out to be more expensive than if I had,
like usual, swiftly scooted down each aisle of the market,
barely even considering each item I tossed into the cart,
and most often I’d forget to adjust the settings to “do not
substitute” and wind up with brands I’ve spent all my
life avoiding or—for reasons that would soon become
clear—I had never heard of. I’m not sure why in the
heck I’m thinking of shopping for anything, given that
I am living through a stretch in which am more destitute
than at any other duration in my life (yes, it’s too true,
despite my all-too-public bouts with being in the poor
house over the past few years, despite my every effort
barely even considering each item I tossed into the cart,
and most often I’d forget to adjust the settings to “do not
substitute” and wind up with brands I’ve spent all my
life avoiding or—for reasons that would soon become
clear—I had never heard of. I’m not sure why in the
heck I’m thinking of shopping for anything, given that
I am living through a stretch in which am more destitute
than at any other duration in my life (yes, it’s too true,
despite my all-too-public bouts with being in the poor
house over the past few years, despite my every effort
at attempting to become gainfully employed; it’s all
too exasperating). But would I ever kill for a diet soda
right now. It’s nearly one o’clock on a homebound Sunday
morning, and suddenly I remember I have, yes, I think
a couple of dollars and just enough change to purchase
a two-liter bottle of Diet Dr Pepper. So, without a thought
on how to wrap this up in a sensible manner, I’m up
and out the door before the corner store closes. It’s the
weekend, and I’m giddy with the notion of pouring a
cup of cold carbonated diet soda. Until next time, when
too exasperating). But would I ever kill for a diet soda
right now. It’s nearly one o’clock on a homebound Sunday
morning, and suddenly I remember I have, yes, I think
a couple of dollars and just enough change to purchase
a two-liter bottle of Diet Dr Pepper. So, without a thought
on how to wrap this up in a sensible manner, I’m up
and out the door before the corner store closes. It’s the
weekend, and I’m giddy with the notion of pouring a
cup of cold carbonated diet soda. Until next time, when
The Ennui Continues.
