Therapy

So after spending a whole day being miserable (for reasons, refer to previous post), I decided to follow the truly excellent advice given by a fellow blogger gentleman, and 'carpe diem' for a bit today. I didn't toe his advice to the letter, true, but used my most tried and tested method of seizing the day.......ok, allright, no more suspense. I went shopping. Now, this wasn't my usual brand of self-indulgent retail therapy. Today I was occupying the position of senior (actually, singular) consultant to this friend who's wardrobe has been in severe need of some fresh blood. This shopping trip has been in the offing for atleast the last three months, but a combination of adverse circumstances and the vicious cycle of hosteller finance (what cycle? We're always flat broke) had managed to delay it so far. However, yesterday things got to the point of no return when the aforementioned friend discovered a tiny tear in a hitherto serviceable garment. I was roped in, being the resident shopaholic and general do-gooder (!?!).

So we set out this afternoon. The trip lasted for about five hours, including the gastronomic bit of the outing, and at the end of it, life was mostly sunny once again. The aforementioned friend had spent more than he'd envisioned, and after buying two pairs of jeans, one pair each of cargoes and track pants, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt(absolutely dreamy, that one), he finally realized how 'dangerous' I was. I, on the other hand, had spent the day in the varied processes of selection, rejection, coaxing, cajoling, and as an aside, resolutely not buying anything for myself except the bare necessities (dishwashing liquid, lip balm, body odour preventive). Therefore, I was smug, not poor (relatively) and not hungry.

There's something so powerful about what one of my favourite authors calls 'the dance of demand and supply'. It makes me understand a little bit why those fool insects hurl themselves at lanterns and die, generation after stupid generation. I mean, you know you shouldn't even consider it, keeping in mind the state of your (absent) finances. But you're drawn towards that shop which could be the devil's agent, as far as you're concerned. It sits there, peeking at you innocently. You're walking towards it, your feet are moving of their own accord. You enter, and after browsing for a while, you find IT. IT is totally the worth the drain on your moolah. IT will compensate (more than adequately) for all the little sacrifices that you'll have to make for the rest of the month. IT is what will make you look good like you've never looked good before. So you're infatuated, and your brain's in hibernation, and you make a buy. You're happy for a while, and that is the power of retail therapy.
Oh, I just realized that I'll never manage to be a successful Buddhist , will I?