Which God and Good Men Had Quite Given Up On

Temperature at 10pm: 24c/76f

Today I went to Walmart. It has a new logo, so that will be the photo of the day (because I forgot to take a photo of anything else):

I hate Walmart. I consider it the abode of the devil: it's a non-union shop, which in my opinion is just about the worst crime a business can commit short of actual illegal activities; and what's more it treats its employees horribly (no doubt the two are connected) and uses its ubiquity to keeps its suppliers in a stranglehold. Nonetheless, it is the only place in WhereIlive that sells two items I need. Of course, as my friend BC pointed out, the devil always has items that you can get nowhere else, and that you at least believe you need. Which made me feel simultaneously a little guilty (that I felt I needed these things) and vaguely justified (since this point seems to prove that Walmart is indeed either the abode of the devil or the devil himself). Possessing these conflicting emotions, I descended to Walmart, which did have the two things I needed, and where I was reminded of one thing I like about Walmart: as the woman above suggests, everyone who shops there is of a size that makes me feel slim. Indeed, when I first moved to WhereIlive and first went to Walmart (where I had to shop for a little while, until I got my first raise and had enough money to move on to Target), I had the same experience that I had when I attended my one and only Weight Watchers meeting: despite being a good twenty pounds overweight, I looked around and thought, I don't need to lose any weight at all. I am a sylph! This time, I briefly revelled in the fat people, whisked my two items off the shelf, and hustled myself out the door to...

My first ballet class here. And, indeed, my first ballet class for something like four months. On the one hand, ouch. My calf muscles will hate me tomorrow, and my demi pliè was really a knee bend of about four inches (shameful), while my arabesque was about 15 inches off the floor (even more shameful). Plus - oh, the humanity - after months of teaching myself not to pull my weight back in tango...I pulled my weight back on the pirouettes! And on the promenades! Apparently tango and ballet are not remotely related in this way, at least.

On the other hand, given that it's been four months, not bad. Fluffed the pirouettes, couldn't penchè more than about a foot, but I whipped through the petit allegro, beat my feet as required, and managed to hold my relevès where, er, relevant. So I am rather more sanguine than I was at the start of the class. Also, because it was baking hot, I was actually more stretchy than I might otherwise have been, and got more stretched than I might otherwise have got. Both good things.

Also today I put for sale on e-bay many handbags. For a very long time, I loved handbags, and I collected (to the extent that you can collect something you use) witty or beautiful ones. Then, when I met Mr. Fallen and needed to save money so I could go and visit him, I suddenly and totally lost interest in buying handbags; I found something better to spend my money on. Still, that left me with something like 35 handbags (yes, you read that right). Well, after a year without those handbags I find I don't need them at all - and what's more, I do need money to live next year. So off they all go. Well, not quite all...I can't bear to part with the one that looks like a pot of flowers, or the one that looks like a woman's torso, or the one with the ostrich feathers. But the others? Consigned to e-bay! Just wait until next week, when I put my fancy dresses up for sale and take my outerwear to the homeless shelter...

Although it may not seem like it, I have been having weighty thoughts while I have been here; I just haven't been able to settle enough to write them (I'm staying with friends until my flat comes free on Tuesday, and I find it hard to relax and focus fully when I'm not writing in my own space). I shall try to be a bit weightier tomorrow.