I think I’m going to start a new blog. It will be like an opposite day combination of The Pretty Pear and Things I’ve Bought that I Love that will serve as a cautionary tale to anyone who thinks they can get away with owning two pairs of jeans* without an in-unit washer/dryer and I will call it Things I’ve Worn to the Laundromat. After two years in my neighborhood, I’d like to think that the locals are accustomed to my braless runs to Jewel for some last-minute breakfast necessity or my penchant for publicly folding my laundry dressed in my pajamas. Still, as I politely held the courtyard gate open for an incoming resident, despite being burdened by a giant laundry bag, she actually stood ankle-deep in slush and stared at the gauzy folds of my gaily printed sundress puffing out from under my giant Chicago-style down coat, worn over boot cut yoga pants stuffed haphazzardly into filthy fake-fleece lined boots until I said, gently and encouragingly, “Go ahead!” at which point she snapped out of her stunned silence and skittered past me through the gate and into the safety of her own apartment.

Speaking of things I’ve bought that I love, for the first time in my 23-year history of wearing glasses, I am soon to be the owner of not one, not two, but THREE pairs of eye glasses. The first pair is covered through my insurance so I just picked them out from the optical shop connected with my DO’s office. The other two I bought from Zenni Optical, a magic place that sells frames and lenses for, in some cases, EIGHT AMERICAN DOLLARS. I printed off the order page for a pair I wanted and brought it to my eye doctor to ask whether $8USD glasses would blind me and he assured me that the lenses had to be ground to spec. He was unable to assure me that they would not promptly fall apart, but for $8 I’m willing to take the chance. Actually, I bought one pair for $8 and one pair for $12.95, plus another $4.95 to turn them into sunglasses, which thereby marks the second time in my 23-year history of wearing glasses that I officially own prescription sunglasses (the first pair were lost in a tragic river tubing accident). It’s going to be hard to let go of the “giant cheap plastic glasses worn over my regular glasses” look, but maybe I can just save that for laundry day.

*Okay, I lied. I actually own four pairs of jeans, but three of them feel hideously uncomfortable right now and I’m saving the other pair for a visit to a friend on Saturday. Actually, for reasons that I suspect are largely hormonal, almost all of my clothes feel hideously uncomfortable right now. The nadir of my clothes comfort (or the pinnacle of my discomfort, depending on whether you’re a nadir of comfort or pinnacle of discomfort kind of person) occurred yesterday when I wore a Thing That I’d Bought That I Did Not Love, namely a new bra from Lane Bryant. I ordered it, which was dumb, but I was trying to pad my order to take advantage of a coupon and I had tried on some bras in the store not long ago so I thought I’d be safe. Well! Imagine my surprise when I discovered that said bras contained not just underwires, some diabolical sidewires that seemed to serve the sole function of making me absolutely miserable. Once I got home, I had the fucking thing off in about 0.0003 seconds and went at it with a seam ripper, only to excise this:

The plastic thing in my bra.

No, that is not a dental implement or an intestinal parasite (it’s no testament to my photography skills either). That was the once straight, totally superfluous piece of plastic in my bra. Through a combination of body heat and unstoppable side fat, the plastic in my bra molded into an instrument of torture that put me in a really bad mood all god damn day. I’m better now though.