So the holiday is creeping up. I finally pulled myself together enough to get some shopping done. I do feel I got suckered at one store. I was so proud of myself for shopping around and not buying the first thing that met my criteria, but then I misread a sign and bought something that was almost double what I was expecting. I think that's an old retailer trick, placing two nearly identical things right next to each other and duping people into buying the more expensive of the two. I was buying bedsheets and the one on sale was 210 threadcount, but the one I bought was 300. I stood in front of the sign for several minutes after my purchase to figure out why I'd just paid nearly double. Of course the differentiating font was like 8 pt. I'm probably going to end up returning it and getting my boyfriend a couple of massages instead. That's what I'm sure he would appreciate more anyway. Men aren't too picky about bedsheets.
It's been a wistful week. I desperately miss my father. I am reflecting much more often about the last week after Christmas 2009, so aware that all the trouble in the world followed that banking mistake. I feel that my great meltdown is in front of me. I have had some twinges. I probably need a therapist. I guess I am feeling survivor's guilt. My dad eventually recovered enough, probably due to the medication, that we were able to discuss the situation with him. I think that is very healing for all of us, me especially, but I just agonize .... I just miss my dad.
In any case, I am off of work from Dec. 23-Jan. 3rd. My boyfriend goes to Costa Rica Jan. 5th for a weeklong vacay with guys from work. I think the next two weeks will be a good time for mourning.
I have reopened a last.fm account and am getting an alt/indie/Britpop fix. It is lovely. Just what the doc ordered at 2 am. I had forgotten about the healing power of music. Listening to Franz Ferdinand's "This Fire." This beats drinking by eons.
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