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Sometimes I wonder which colors really go together. Today, for example, I was wearing brown pants and a black shirt. I’m not sure if that’s permissible by the various iterations of fashion police that troll the streets. I did have someone say something horrible to me when I was on my bike yesterday in a similar outfit (okay, maybe it was the same one, I’m moving and I don’t know where anything is and I’m schlepping stuff hither and yon and hither again). Anyway, I chased down the horrible-talking people on my bike (they were in their car), lowered my glasses and insisted that they repeat their horribleness for me to hear from closer up. They declined, and I felt a giant ball of joy at mucking up their day like they’d mucked up mine. And then I set to schlepping again.

And I still didn’t know what I should wear, or shouldn’t. Why, I wish I were a watermelon, I thought. Then I’d always wear pink and green and no one would ever shout horribleness to me on the street as I was biking past.

A watermelon, you say? Why yes, a watermelon. They have their own fashion you know. You didn’t know? Please regard exhibit A (three years of law school and a fancy diploma in an embossed folder and behind a piece of plastic allow me to say that). (Sandía is the word for watermelon in Spanish).


So think about it. The next time you’re pondering whether you should or shouldn’t wear something, think of the humble watermelon, which is picked from the fields, baptized something ridiculous, laid in a basket and priced a solid 3X what it should be, where it will sit and do nothing at all while you roll your combination cart-basket past and wonder if you’ll still go this same supermarket when you move a few blocks south.

And that is all she wrote for this week. Taking bets on whether or not my internet provider (whose website was down yesterday, oh dear) hooks up my service on time and when they say they will. Kinda betting that’s a no, sadly. Back sometime!