It's getting late and the kids are going to be up early. My eyes are itchy from too much pollen and too much screen time today. A little while ago, searching for a dresser and a new double stroller on Craigslist, I fell down a rabbit hole of garage sales and missed connections. Let's call it a chipmunk hole.
A Chipmunk Died in Our Double Stroller and Now I Want to Set it on Fire.
— Sarah Layden (@calmoots) May 5, 2015
I wanted to start a missed connections for a shirt I was going to buy in March, but it was really too cold for such a shirt in Indiana in March, and I was traveling to cold-weather climes for TRIP THROUGH YOUR WIRES book events -- Toronto, Syracuse, Buffalo -- and the AWP conference in April, in Minneapolis, where it snowed. There was a two-story Target where one could take refuge, and one did. Also went to NYC, a whole other post, where it was warmer but not quite sleeveless tunic warm. It was sell-a-book-to-a-stranger-named-Scott-in-Central-Park warm, if that gives you an idea. So the shirt. I went back for it today. It had been on my mind. The weather's warming up. Not just a shirt but a tunic, and it screamed CUTE TOP. It was also $80, and I am many things, but I am not a person who will spend $80 on a cute top. Even if it is a tunic, with the word "romantic" in its description. I am not really a wearer of "romantic" garments, typically. But this tunic was different. I figured that by now it was on sale, but it was not locatable in the store. I hunted high and low. The saleswoman was busy spreading out five dresses on the counter - they were all the same dress, black and white, and she was really scrutinizing them - and the salesman was ordering Jimmy John's on the phone and giving out his credit card number so kind of scurrying to the back room to not be heard, and became flustered that I was blocking his way in front of the racks. I'd had Jimmy John's for lunch today, coincidentally. The Turkey Tom, always and forever.
Maybe I could find the top online, I decided. And I did. In a size 0. Look. I am not a size 0; I have never been a size 0, senator. This is not a point of pride or shame, merely a fact. Now, on the March hunt for a cute top, I found a more weather-appropriate alternative, and the saleslady talked me into a smaller size. She was quite insistent. "It looks supergood! You look superfabulous!" And I was swayed. And then this happened.
Cute top bought for readings has ripped in not one but four places. I AM BOOKISH INCREDIBLE HULK. Cannot be contained by poly/silk mix.
— Sarah Layden (@calmoots) April 19, 2015
So you might understand why I'd re-fixate on the tunic. The flowy, pretty, comfy item -- you were almost mine, had I not been so cheap, and so cold all the damn time. But now, warmer! And more events! (To Cleveland on Memorial Day, 1 p.m. at Chagrin Blvd. Barnes & Noble, and Chicago on June 10 at City Lit Books with James Tadd Adcox.) Of course the shirt was no longer available. That was March, This is Now. That's what retailers say when they're trying to be real tough, like S.E. Hinton characters. Clothes don't just wait two months until you're back from book touring and done with the semester grading and all the gardenhousefamily needs (not in that order, that's outside-in, not inside-out.) Which reminds me:
I've been listening to this song a lot lately, traveling. I'm reminded of the R.E.M. song Turn You Inside-Out - words only, not music. Thinking about how crazy the past year has been, with moving and book and the kids and a full-time job, finally, and home home home. And boy was this a welcome sight to come home to.
I have long known where any book of mine would go in a bookstore, in this case the Barnes & Noble in IUPUI's Campus Center. I have visited shelves and traveled to the Ls. Many times. Oh D.H. Lawrence. Oh John le Carré. You two have no idea, you really don't.
