99-cent Notebook

Yesterday afternoon I went to see my doctor. She decided that I needed to get x-rays to ensure that there was no dislocation. However, the imaging place to which they generally refer people was closed, so I was sent to St. Alexus hospital.

I enjoy Catholic hospitals. They somehow comfort me more than non-Catholic ones. I grew up going to one for appointments and visits to a new sister and various relatives. 

I checked in at the front desk and was given a pager. A PAGER! Like they give you at restaurants. I made a lame joke about my table being ready. The hostess/receptionist gave me a weak smile and I mentally applauded the effort. It would be about five minutes before they had a booth available for me to get registered.  

Finding no magazine to peruse and not feeling like walking around,  I sat in one of the lushly padded armchairs. 

And then it happened. 

I remembered that I had my 99-cent Harajuku Lovers notebook in my purse. AND a pen.

Instead of just sitting there making up stories about the people I saw, I got to write them down.

Sweet balls. 

No, there weren't any stunning observations about the general public. There were no achingly profound truths of humanity exposed.

But for those five minutes, I was once again a writer. The kind that sits in comfortable chairs in public places with a notebook or a laptop. I wasn't wrangling a toddler or grocery shopping or talking to anyone. 

For those five minutes I got to reconnect with a part of me that gets exercised so infrequently it is shameful.

Put pen or pencil to paper. Not to make a to-do list or to sign  permission . Write a note for someone. 

That's all I got. 

Oh, and THIS:

Pink dress. Green polka dots. Another Betsey Johnson I found hiding in my closet. 

I just realized I kind of have mom hair. fuck. 

I think it is satin-backed crepe? Or just crepe? Whatever, its a size SMALL and I love it. The construction is amazing. 

In the spirit of full disclosure...I AM wearing a controlling undergarment and the panel across my ribs was pretty tight. 

That dress was the only BJ small I EVER fit into. 

*happy tear*

Cheers,

-a.