What do you mean, make up my mind?

Some days, it's just difficult to make up your mind. Go to the Christmas bazaar with a friend, or attend a screening of Hedwig and the Angry Inch?

Me: Hrm…..I'm feeling damned indecisive today. *laugh* I'm sitting here knowing I should make up my mind…but find myself thinking….'mmm, nap, sunshine.'Kat: *laughing* Okay, then I'll make up your mind for you. Amy, you're going to [the for-charity Christmas bazaar]. You will leave the house at 1pm and head over here and we'll go into town together.

Amy: From my spouse: "I think you have your answer, Amy." OK.

Even I, dear readers, can occasionally take a hint. Therefore I showed up, Amy-style.

Today's definition of Amy-style included a tie-dye shirt I've had since junior high, dark blue jeans, gardening sneakers, a tiny dab of Chanel No. 5 (my favorite perfume), and hair clipped up into a French twist. I truly must learn some consistency in my dress. It would confuse people less.

While walking around the bazaar, I commented to Kat once or twice about the people we passed. Why must everyone drench themselves in perfume? When my sinuses and eyes tighten up in silent screams when I pass someone by, that's how I know they're wearing too much perfume, cologne, or aftershave for their own good. I was intrigued by the gifts available for sale, but it was hard to concentrate with the clashing, drowning scents of suburbanites' Sunday-best colognes.

Somewhere in this house is a bottle of aspirin. I think I'd best find it now.