Shopping Apparently Kills… At Least the Fun in Life

Defying direct orders from the Kimono household command, I got off the couch and headed out yesterday to the Daiei shopping mall. I had a few last minute additions I needed to get for several boxes I am shipping back to the states. Lo and behold, I should have listened to command for several reasons. First, it was the worst possible day to leave house as it turned out to be some Japanese holiday called shubun no hi (or Autumn Equinox Day). My many Japanese resource books (that I didn’t consult prior to heading out obviously) said that this is a national holiday where the Japanese typically visit the graves of their ancestors to pay their respects, but I swear to you that where most of them really went was the mall to play the impromptu party bingo game that had been set up for the big day. The roads there… backlogged and slow. The parking lot… packed. The lines… longer than I have ever seen before (but not as bad as Christmas lines, thank the Lord). The stores… full… especially of the younger set. Just maneuvering my big ole girth around the narrow aisles in each store was a major issue that even my gently stated “summimasens” couldn’t help with. To add insult to injury, I didn’t find half of what I was looking for and had to make a lot of compromises.

If just the pure torture of dealing with the whatnot of the holiday wasn’t enough, my little soiree into the real world cost me even more. I mentioned my blood pressure was being uncooperative in yesterday’s post? Well, before I even got out of bed this morning, I started taking it again only to discover that it was slowly rising. I knew if I waited to tell command, he would rip me a new one, so I instantly called OB/GYN. Who then told me to call Labor and Delivery. Who then passed me to a nurse that insisted that I drive my butt in there within the hour or else they would call back again and again until I showed. I pulled on the first dirty outfit I found on the floor, shoved my contacts in and squished make-up on in an not-so-nice fashion and was on my way. All is well. I guess. For now, we are just going to call it chronic pregnancy high blood pressure and not give it any bigger names just yet. I now get to go back and see my friendly doctors much more frequently than the planned trips every four weeks. And I get to do one horrible test that I haven’t had to do since last September when I spent time with my buddy-ole-pal-ole-friend, my ex kidney stone.

Perhaps it serves me right. Perhaps I should have listened to Kimono command. I blame lack of acceptable programming for not being able to keep my butt on the couch. Because it certainly can’t be my own headstrong ways.