I did end up going to Van this weekend. I was going to, and then I wasn’t, and then I was. And then I told everyone I might. And then I woke up early on Sat and decided it was a good day to go. I stayed in a Fancy hotel, which is new to me and good to try out. Fancy hotels aren’t that much different from regular hotels, just the bathroom condiments have gold coloured lids, there’s a doorman, and room service breakfast costs $40. The later comes with gourmet ketchup that you don’t know is ketchup because it’s in the same kind of cute little jar as the jams, but you giggle when you notice it. Actually, I giggled in delight a lot at my Fancy hotel. First was the lovely gay receptionist checking me in who had many suggestions about where to shop, and put his fingertips over his mouth like a japanese school girl when he laughed. Then, while I don’t recomend spending so much on a breakfast that is much like any other plate of bacon and eggs (well, the bacon was pretty superior), I did enjoy ticking off the boxes on the card they provided and hanging said card on the doorhandle. Then having selections delivered to me in the morning during Coronation St, by a young gentleman waiter, who brought it right into my room, set it all up on the table and even started the tea for me.
Conclusion. Fancy hotels are great but entirely not necesary to my happiness or well being.
I found the best bra ever. I recently decided that after, say, 15 years of attachment to the same style of bra, I need to try something new. The new one is a little padded, where the old style was not; available in colours such as navy blue and maroon; still the same brand, and so far, just as comfortable. Another interesting development, or lack thereof, is the cup size, which is a size less. I always felt that my “c” cup was proof that I was average. Now I’m less so, I guess. Oh, and if you were wondering, and I know that you were! I needed a new style of bra because the previous style keeps showing out from under my shirts in a way that isn’t attractive so I needed a different cut to eliminate this problem, or at least a new bra so I wasn’t showing off how gross my old ones have become.
So that was at the Sears in Vancouver where I bought that. Interesting story. I tried on my 16 different selections that I had (trying to find a new style) only to discover I might need a different cup size. So I got dressed and instead of asking the customer service people to fetch me the sizes, I was going to fetch them myself (the service people all seemed bewildered that I needed a change room). Also it was busy and I didn’t want to wait. So I asked the service lady there if it was all right if I went for more sizes, leaving my stuff in the room. Again bewilderment ensued. Anyway, I got my sizes, returned to my change room, to have a women inside cry out in protest that the room was occupied. Nevermind that she hadn’t locked the door so I was free to walk right in, nevermind that all my personal stuff (coat, etc) was still there. The woman got out of there pretty quick after I protested that all my stuff was still in there. Heeee. I got the best bra.
Speaking of old women, old women in Vancouver kept playing chicken with me on the sidewalk and glaring. There would be like 3 of them walking abreast coming up to me, and the one at the end, who should have, you know, let me by, would just stare me down instead, (totally playing chicken! all of them!) so I’d have to get off the sidewalk and walk in traffic instead. Not a big deal, but arriving back in Victoria, two people in a row, you know, ducked back so I could pass on the sidewalk without having to go into traffic to get by. And this was like five steps off the bus. Crazy old Vancouver women! Maybe they expect me to duck back to let them by? But there’s no where for me to duck back to! It’s just me walking!
Anyway I’m home now and as suspected, my apartment is still a mess.