I? Have to get out more

After weeks of craziness with house projects and death of relatives and heathen children, I finally got to go out Sunday morning.

All by myself.


To Kohl's where I had to return the cutest hot pink silk cami that made me look like a stuffed sausage. Wah.

But then there were cute sandals to look at, so that was okay.

And since I love books more than oxygen, and there is no coffee at Kohl's, off to the bookstore.

I have a happy little bookstore routine. First, I have to get the yummy hazelnut latte. The big one. Yum.

Then, I meander through the periodical aisles, up and down, until I get to the final aisle and grab the latest Poets & Writers.

Sounds good, no?

I had to pass behind some man on my way along the magazine rack. I was polite. I stayed out of his space. He stared at my legs, up and down, no less than three times in under a minute.

I wasn't wearing heels. I do not have a tan. I have cellulite and spider veins. If he wasn't so creepily obvious, I would have felt sorry for him.

But no, he killed my bookstore mojo.

Didn't stop me from buying books, of course. ;)

All this to say, I need to get out more.