I smell phantom patchouli
Something about riding my bike to take the bus to Trader Joe's and getting a raffle ticket because I brought my own bag* makes me feel like an incredible hippie. Which, some would argue, I am, but I'm much more of the "conservative politics bad, personal hygiene good" type than the word tends to bring to mind.
I kind of wish that my parent's generation hadn't so sullied the image of the liberal.
*I didn't really mean to, but I realized as I was in line that I had my messenger bag with me (because I need something to carry my keys/bottle of water/phone/book in, and a bag like that's easier to manage on a bicycle), my purchases would all fit in it, so why in god's name should I carry both a shopping bag and that?
Labels: introspection
1 Comments:
Once last semester, it turned out that the cashier at TJ's used to live in the same area of Vermont as I do, and his wife used to work in the only bookstore in town. Creepy. (I had to tell him that the bookstore had closed. Alas, poor lone bookshop.)
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