sunday in sifi

I went to a party at the Surf Shaque last night. It was the first party there since I left. And, as everything evolves, so has the invite list: it’s now mostly Nick and Sam(antha)’s friends, as opposed to the extended party list that Andrew and I invited. Our closest people were there, but it’s very different than it was when I ran the parties. As it should be.

A couple people asked me if it was weird to be in my old house without living there. I thought about it, and then shook my head. “No, not really,” I said. And in some inexplicable way, it wasn’t. I wasn’t in the house more than a few nights a week over the last several months anyways. I wasn’t even curious enough to go look at how the new girl has set up my old room. I suppose that I can only attach myself to one place as “home”, and my new apartment is so very much “home” that it’s hard to have any real weirdness about former homes.

We had a pretty solid Saturday yesterday. Starting with when we finally got up and dragged ourselves out of the house. At 2:30. I was happily history-nerding out all morning, watching “The Presidents” series on the History Channel, so I didn’t get around to movement until late. But we decided to go out for lunch, and that Papa Cristos sounded like the best idea ever. And we’re in line, and there’s a tug on my hair, and I’m about to berate Paul, and then I realize that Annika did it. And there she was, with her baby and husband. So we all ended up having lunch together. I adore Annika and Will, whom we’ve seen a couple times at blogger meetup. We had a really nice lunch, especially as Paul and I are both extremely fascinated and curious by people our age with offspring. And Papa Cristos makes some of the best Greek food I’ve ever had.

Lunch over, we started the rounds of errands. To Beverly Hills, to pick up some prescriptions at my designated CVS by my office. To the Beverly Center, because I had to replace my brand-new black H&M shirtdress that was stolen out of the hotel room in Tampa. And to Trader Joe’s. And then we had enough time to come home, finish some work (me), take a nap (Paul) and then get to the Surf Shaque party.

Yesterday’s errand running also taught me that I’ve actually changed a lot in the last few years, when it comes to my purchasing habits, and keeping them in line with my lowered consumerism beliefs. We had to go to Bed Bath and Beyond, because we needed a bathmat (we’ve been using this horrible, grungy hand towel for a month, and I wanted a new fluffy one). And normally, I’d want to buy things for the house while there. Not necessarily even things we really needed, but things I would think we needed, or things I’d think I needed in order to feel fully nested. But we got in there, and all I could think was how useless most of the stuff was in there, or how Paul or I could DIY anything I thought was actually necessary. Also, most of the stuff in there was just plain tacky. And all I can think of when I go into a BB&B or something is about how much needless crap there is, and how much pollution was probably generated in the inhuman conditions factories that created it, and how marked up it is (especially when it’s something I already bought off Overstock.com last week at a better price) and how BB&B is probably making a zillion dollars tricking people into thinking their homes aren’t complete without all this crap, while they pay their employees minimum wage.

The point is: I didn’t want to buy anything, and didn’t even have to be restrained from shopping. Restrained from mocking maybe, but that’s it. And yes, we did buy a bathmat there, but sometimes, that’s just the best option, and I know that there are lower footprint and more sustainable and more humane options out there – but it is a pretty blue that matches the bathroom, and it was what we needed at the time. Sometimes, I can just hope that my beliefs guide me a little bit more all the time, because recognizing what I truly believe is what allows me to exist in American consumer culture without buying into it – and consequently going insane.

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