Readers, I’m off to go see the lovely macboyX and the SuperRoboGomo
this weekend. I’m terribly excited despite the scowl on my face.
Last night I packed my clothes into a standard rolling suitcase, but
had to make extra room for my toiletries. I’m all for national
security, but a boy needs moisturizer, lip balm, and cologne… you
never know who you’re going to meet in the airport terminal nor can
one plan on being daisy fresh after a plane ride. Resigned to having
a severe haberdashery handicap, I managed to edit the wardrobe down to
simple pieces. No, happi coat, no geta sandals, no hand fan, no
sarong, and no fundoshi (wink wink)… fine.

I awoke this morning with everything sorted and was headed out the
door. The last thing to put on were my shoes and glasses. Shoes,
check. Glasses… not so much. After tearing up the apartment and
succumbing to the fear of being late for work, I ran out the door with
an old pair, which I’m not terribly fond of and doesn’t really jive
with the current state of mon coiffure.

With this major (trust me, missing accessories merit civil defense air
missiles and elite task forces to be deployed) trauma this morning,
I’m here at work, to stock up wood to keep the home-fires burning.
Hopefully this inauspicious morning isn’t a harbinger of things to
come. Ooh, maybe it’s an excuse to get new frames… retail therapy!