I had an excellent day, but now I'm totally exhausted. I woke up late, took my time getting ready (I even blowdried my hair, shocker), and then walked down to Yerba Buena Gardens to have brunch/lunch at Samovar. It's one of my favorite utterly ridiculous places in the city, since it has a great mass-appropriation of vaguely Eastern cultural and religious artifacts, all the better to create an over-the-top environment that almost (almost!) convinces you that your quiche and your masala chai are worth the money. The food is overpriced, but you're not paying for the food -- you're paying for the great view over the gardens and for the excellent people-watching. Both met my expectations today, and the food was delicious, so I was quite happy. I spent some quality time there brainstorming my young-adult series, but was ultimately driven away by the three pregnant women who sat next to me -- there's enough of a baby explosion at work without having to hear it on the weekends.
When I left Samovar, I decided to go shopping. Market Street was closed off for some sort of protest/demonstration/march; the leader was chanting something about funding education through her bullhorn, but the signs were a hodgepodge that looked like they're just carted out by the individual demonstrators whenever they show up at a demonstration, and most of them had more to do with Iraq, Palestine, and labor unions than they did with education. My favorite sign read "Capitalism is Organized Crime". I rolled my eyes and turned away from the protest to edge my way through the police presence and go into the mall, where I promptly spent money to continue to fund organized crime (or, perhaps, the livelihoods of the many sales clerks I interacted with).
My shopping trip was a wholehearted success. I didn't buy a lot, but given that I've dropped two sizes since moving back to California, I'm in dire need of some new basics and also need to donate at least half of my closet to charity. The biggest success came at Nordstrom, where I let a woman do a proper fitting for a bra for the first time ever. If you're a woman and have never done a real fitting, run to your nearest lingerie store and do it -- I was shocked and appalled at how different her suggested size and my self-selected size were. Granted, dropping two sizes is going to change your bra size too, but I was just totally off. Scenting blood, she sold me on multiple bras, most of which were on sale, and all of which I would buy even if Nordstrom actually is an organized crime syndicate.
After shopping, I trudged back to my apartment, did some laundry, and spent the rest of the evening starting to clean out my closet. I have one whole tub of stuff to donate, and another twenty or so pieces that I want to try on tomorrow before deciding whether to keep or eliminate them. But now, despite my satisfaction at an accomplishment-filled day, I'm beyond tired -- and it's no wonder my feet hurt, since the round-trip was 2.5 miles, not including the two hours at the mall and another trip to the post office a few blocks away. So, I shall sleep the sleep of the just, and hopefully I'll get some writing done tomorrow! Goodnight!
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