I've been limiting my screen time and this computer has no battery to speak of so this is going to be a short post, a continuation of my examinations of my interactions with media, capitalism, all related themes that seen from a sufficient distance may be found to make sense.

I want Carmy Berzatta’s wool coat from “The Bear,” and since that is also what everyone else wants, the only way to get it is perhaps wait 6 months and pay 650$. This is not something I can or will buy. But is it too much to ask to get a wool coat, reminiscent of those coats we all got back in grade school? Wool. Warm weather, cool weather, wet weather. It was the right coat. J’s was orangish fall color checks, L’s had greens, T’s was blue, and mine was red, white and blue without lookng patriotic. I want a zipup wool coat like I want my childhood back. But also I want one so I can throw away every single other synthetic, gasoline based piece of clothing into the ground where it belongs. I want my oil embargo 70’s life and wardrobe back.

Steve and I went on a walk, and finally I got him into the men’s haberdashery down the street. Very upscale, but with a 40% sale. In the window, there was a wool coat for sale, checked and zippered. I tried on a men’s medium. It was too big, and the color was the one color of beige I cannot wear. As evil 8th grader boy with curly hair said to me in the 7th grade when I wore a beige IZOD shirt to try and fit in. “You look like a tennis ball.” It’s true. I cannot wear beige (and really why would anyone want to?) It fit Steve and now he has the jacket. But I tried every other jacket or shirt on in the store. There was a cotton one in a color that works. We left. I’ve been dreaming of that jacket. I’ve been online shopping, scouring Poshmark and Ebay for a wool jacket like my Mom and Dad bought me in 1975. I’ve also branched out to shopping for the perfect hiking shoes again.

I’m an overfed American /Canadian with too much time on her hands. I’m trying to find the right costume for a life I’m trying to live. One that involves carry on luggage only, and the perfect outfit that perhaps my father would have worn in the 70’s. I’ve already got the bowling shoes.

But really ? Where am I headed? I’m selling my stuff, I’m doing Swedish Death Cleaning, and I am buying no new things. It was like this the last time I moved. I packed for six months before moving to Canada. There goes the battery.