3 Phenomena

The phenomenon of garbage day. Monday is garbage day in Cleveland. For me, this means I put one of my big trash cans (I never have enough garbage to use both of them) at the end of my driveway on Sunday night and the city truck comes by and dumps it bright and early. To most of the rest of Cleveland, this means you pile up anything you don't want at the end of your driveway and the city truck comes and collects it bright and early. Literally anything. I've seen mattresses, entire beds, complete living room furniture sets. And I wonder what makes people think that this is 1) entirely normal, and 2) able to fit in the city truck. Does a garbage truck really have the kind of compacting abilities necessary to handle everyone's discard piles? Driving to work on Monday is always somewhat fascinating, in that one can quickly scan what his neighbors are getting rid of. The house across and two down from me was discarding a massive dresser/cabinet set I could tell as I backed out of my driveway yesterday. From where I stood, it looked antique-ish and delightful, and I almost stooped to the train of thought I'm sure many a homeless or super poor person has, but realizing upon closer view that the set was in actuality quite ugly saved me from having to further plan the acquisition.

The phenomenon of the way clothes look when you're shopping. I dropped a few hundred bones at Nordstrom Rack this weekend (although it's going to take more than a new wardrobe to turn me into anything half as charming as Zoey Deschanel). The only thing I was actually looking for were purple shoes for the purple dress I had rediscovered at the back of my closet. I found some, as well as a pair of burgundy Steve Madden mary janes (and a burgundy-toned shirt to go with). I also perused the dresses and found 1) a denimesque number that matches my eyes and ties right at the hip (as opposed to on the waist, which I hate), and 2) a black flapper-style piece with a thick patterned elastic band that sits, again, on the hip. The problem with dress 1 was that the sides came up higher than the front and back. Apparently it's a popular style, although it makes no sense to me. The problem with dress 2 was that it was slightly shorter than what I would normally wear and had an overall za-za-zoom appearance I wasn't sure I could handle. And so, naturally, I bought both dresses. Then I came home and tried them on again. And wondered what I was thinking. Dress 1, while SO cute from the front, is simply awful because of the multi-level hem. And dress 2 makes me look a little like the way I might look if I dressed like a prostitute. Just what is it about shopping that convinces us that a mediocre slash risky slash borderline completely ridiculous purchase makes sense?

The phenomenon of people who complain about mild summers. What's wrong with these people? I've been listening to them all summer (because Cleveland has been unseasonably cool) whine about how it doesn't even feel like summer, how it's "cold," how they are just waiting for the heat to show up. First, of course it feels like summer. We are throwing BBQs, eating watermelon, going to the beach, taking vacations, working half day fridays, regardless of how stifling hot it is (or isn't) outside. Second, it's not cold. Because, as previously established, it's summer! Eighty degrees is not cold. Neither is seventy-five. Third, why would you be waiting around for the heat? Incidentally, Cleveland has suddenly decided to roast us all, and the intense heat and humidity of the past week have been miserable. And this is what all the complainers have been waiting for? Someone's going to have to explain it to me, because I see nothing pleasant about the heat. It only makes you feel less like baking and more like sleeping downstairs, naked.