Not On My Way to the Fabric Store*

11:30 a.m. I'm barely standing at the corner for two minutes, when I see the no. 96 bus approaching. I don't see my life flashing before my eyes, but I do see a Rival hot pot in the corner of my dirt-laden kitchen plugged in. I see steam emitting from a spout. In my mind, I picture the plastic container boiling away all the remaining water while I'm gone for two hours running errands, like going to this fabric store, buying some make-up, and then vitamins at Whole Foods. But I have to make split-second decision. Do I run back into my apartment to check on the potential electrical fiasco which could become a fire? Or do I catch this bus so I don't have to wait another 20 minutes for the next one? I decide to board. I figure the pot must unplugged or I will return to smoldering grounds where my condo once existed.

12 noon After taking an elevated train to the northernmost post of Chicago, I'm waiting to catch the next leg (not arm) of my trip. While I'm there with a lunch-time crowd of commuters, I'm thinking. Do I go get the latest issue of Burda World of Fashion magazine now or later? Now or later? I opt for later because I can shop more easily and quicker on a full stomach. I avert my eyes as the train pauses at the stop two blocks away from the aforementioned textile shop, burps a few people and then goes as its merry way. Only an invisible hand can keep me from getting off too. I console myself with the thought of food. I'll take a Hershey's Extra Dark chocolate bar over a chance to pet the fabrics any day. Right?

12:15 p.m. I return a book to the library. I figure I'll whisk through the grocery store, and then do the same at the CVS to pick up cosmetics. Do it fast enough I'll have some extra minutes to go grab that particular magazine. For some reason, I'm obsessed with this getting this now, especially after I saw it online yesterday. You know that invisible hand I was talking about earlier? It yanked me again, this time pulling me to the library. I was convinced I needed some free reading material now. I'd really wanted to read Art Buchwald's book. That was more essential than seeing the latest and great fashions, although I did peek through that book Parisiennes: A Celebration of French Women. I even carried around with me inside the library. I decided it was too heavy too bring home. I would have spent more time dissecting the 1940s picture of women dressed in dresses depicting their countries. Gal with the American flag dress was my favorite. I wondered if she sewed it, and where it might be now, at this moment. I'm hoping it wasn't turn into rags to scrub the floors. Since the coffee-table book was deemed bad for my back, I searched for Buchwald's tome. With the help of the librarian, I was able to check this book out and put it in a purse pocket.

12:30 p.m. Lunch hour is drawing to a close. What's more important - make up or guess what? I decide enhanced physical beauty ranks higher, so I quickly walk to the CVS with my list in hand. I quickly locate the required foundation and mascara, and make a beeline for the chocolates. Once all the goods are procured, I stand in line, which seems longer than usual. Why are there are so many people in the check-out when I'm in hurry?

12:45 p.m. I'm waiting for the train which will cross Evanston-Chicago border. Even though 1 p.m. is more rapidly encroaching than my train, my brain is still obsessing. Burda WOF or no? Burda WOF or no? It (my brain) locks on a decision: no magazine for now. Instant gratification must be delayed, at least for a day. I have a fleeting notion to make a quick visit later before the store shuts at 5:30 p.m. to pick up my aorta's desire. But my better half (usually the right side) denies me three times. Get it tomorrow. Make that purchase something to look forward to tomorrow. That way I have something to dream about. I can visualize myself waiting for the Metra train (the diesel variety, not the aforementioned electric one), waving to the the engineer who usually responds and toots his horn. I board, pay my $2.50 for a one-way fare one stop away. Two minutes later, I'm at the stop that takes me to the magazine that brings me to bliss. Of course, I could purchase it at the newspaper stand, which is not at even a half-a-block away, but what fun would that be? I wouldn't have the fun diversion of fabric, notions and threads, just People Magazine, Threads, Newsweek, Lucky, Glamour and other practical reading material.

2:15 p.m. It turns out my apartment, which has been standing since the 1920s, remains visible. The tea pot point apparently didn't reach the boiling point. In fact, I discover it was unplugged. So I get busy doing what needs to be done - reading about the Pregnant Man, my favorite blogs to see if they've been updated since I last visited earlier this morning. That done, I move onto the next order of busy-ness: blogging. Even as I type away on my keyboard, I'm still trying to figure out a way to get my magazine fix. I just might be able to squeeze in getting that magazine tonight. Here are some questions I'm trying to answer: is this too much to do when I'm trying to meet up with someone early in the evening? Should I use that time to fuss with my hair, shave my mustache and contemplate eradicating the fur on my legs?

2:28 p.m. I've just finished a call in regards to tonight's plans. Since the weather's nice and the days are longer and the nights are growing stronger, what would it hurt to go get what I really wanted to get at mid-day?
* The skirt above? It's knitted, not sewn. It's a Kat Coyle pattern. I made it!