That busker was a prick. I don’t have a job either, but I don’t yell at people on the street. Good job, busker. You learned to play the guitar. Awesome. No one’s ever done that before. Congratulations. You deserve everyone’s money.
He wasn’t even that good. There was a guy in the subway station who was much better, and one million times more polite. He got a dollar from me.
In conclusion, my day was hardly ruined. To paraphrase Kingsley Amis, a baneful critic might ruin my lunch, but never my dinner.
I win.
Even though it takes a great deal of time, it’s important to make judicious and considered purchasing decisions. Otherwise you run the risk of spending money in a frivolous manner. Guilt resulting from such expenditures can leave you touchy and vulnerable. You might become inappropriately upset at, say, the heckling of a street busker who feels that your money would be better spent buying him a sandwich. That shit can ruin your whole day.
In conclusion, I win because I feel AWESOME right now.
It was the kind of shopping trip where you watch someone ruled by indecision wander like a lost child, forever uncertain of her own goals and desires. A harried operation in which every choice is fraught with potential peril. You point to things which look awesome and sweet, but are rebuffed by one who seeks to drape herself in drabness and utilitarian frumpery. There is great need to vascillate (apparently). It is a wonder that anything is bought at all. You end the day wishing you had not spent twenty dollars on an obscure electronic instrument at Urban Outfitters, but with a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that you are able to enter a department store without being crushed by the invisible burden of an irresolute soul, a weight comparable to that which burdened Atlas (apparently).
The shoe thing was funny, though.
It was the kind of shopping trip where you only buy things that you should have owned already. A stress-free operation in which personal style is simply not at stake. You choose the things that look most like the things that are already in your closet. There is no need to innovate. You end the day looking virtually the same as you did before, but with a deep sense of satisfaction and completeness.
That is, until you look inside the shoebox and realize that you picked up two right boots.
