sometimes i want to buy a sunday paper, then i remember that i don't care

i was driving to the pharmacy this morning and passed a middle-aged man jogging in his underwear. i thought, "hm, that's pretty honest." then i started thinking about, you know, all of the other honest things. so far i've found two things that are almost always honest, and a pretty substantial number of things that are only honest because i'm doing them without any clothes on (like eating an avocado at 2 a.m.). sometimes it's hard to keep track of the criteria for 'honesty,' which i think means i've been here for too long.

i believe that driving to a pharmacy at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. on a sunday is a pretty honest thing. feverish children prompt all sorts of honest moments. administering cold baths to a dazed, screaming fireball human in the middle of the night, for example. or trying to clean upchucked chicken noodle soup off of a second copy of "The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog" while still maintaining the paper's integrity because you refuse to buy a third copy of that damn book.

it occurred to me that if the locally owned coffee shop weren't on the other side of the street, i'd go to it instead of starbucks. but starbucks is right there, and crossing the street to 'put money back into the community' would be a kind of lie, since all i really care about is the coffee. i wondered if that was honest or lazy or both. or if laziness itself was honest. then i wondered if all pharmacies were honest, because it's perfectly normal to stroll in wearing pajamas or a swimsuit, unapologetically contagious or hungover, and pick up your prescription or a case of beer or snacks to smuggle into the movie theater or wrapping paper on december 23. (there's no wrapping paper left at target on december 23, because everyone pretending to have their shit together bought it all in november.)

what i'm saying is, i think about this a lot.

i'm putting pharmacies on the list.