Everthing’s been a blur of sameness lately. Hither and yon, to and fro, here and there are all sort of melding into one another like one big mishmashy stew that, quite frankly, I’m getting tired of tasting.
Take a look, for instance, at what I ate for lunch yesterday:
After experiencing déjà food, I scurried uptown and experienced déjà Bloom.
Today I vowed that I was done with replaying Village Natural macro platter and Bloomingdale’s excursions. But already I can feel the cosmic, magnetic forces working and worming their way into my subconscious, and know I’ll find myself at one or both of these places sometime before next weekend, and as I fiddle with my food and fondle shoes, I’ll stop mid-taste or mid-stride and wonder, Haven’t I already done this?
Something’s gotta give.
Hasn’t she talked about “déjà food” before? Well, yes. Yes, she has!