Thigh bruises leave you wanting to sleep away the days behind drawn curtains. This helps nothing. Get outside. Wipe off your mouth. Go somewhere you’ve never been. Like a soon-to-close Big Lots clearance superstore. Just walk around in it. Lean in close to the discounted wading pools and inhale deeply. There’s no security at these places. You can touch nearly anything for as long as you want. Force yourself alive. Spend too much time in the decorative glass aisle. The colored glass is seductive and can usually justify its cost through vague functionality.

“This turquoise bulldog could be an ashtray. Probably use it to hold pens, too.”

Guilt pangs start in the second hour. You’re not going to buy anything. This is just a distraction from your upper leg problems. Just a way to feel normal again. Folks that run this place want to make a dollar. They’ve got obligations. Better buy something. Make it small, so you can pay in cash. No one has to know.

Triple-A batteries. You can do this. Buy them, take them home, immediately throw them away. Resist the urge to pay with a Fifty. Make small talk with the cashier. Mention the dolphin lamps. Ask for a bag.

You’re home now. And although you still can’t breathe, your legs don’t hurt anymore. Leg Make-Up will cover the rest.

Chris Weagel

Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.

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