Combat Shopping

I have recently had three straight days of technological triumph.

Day #1:  Got both the Canadian and the US cell phone/Blackberry to receive email, a victory made all the more sweet by the fact that the sales people at T Mobile said it wasn’t possible.

Day #2:  Installed my wireless internet service without incident (and almost no profanity).

Day #3:  Installed my new printer/fax/scanner without a hitch.  Resisted the urge to immediately email you all a picture of my ass.

Technology now functioning well at 1314 N Formosa (or “Cape Canaveral” if you will) I spent the weekend looking for some accent pieces to make the place more homey.  Oddly enough, a completely empty room looks less empty than a room with a single chair in it.  So this weekend it was all about lamps and carpets.

The lamps were achieved in short order at a swap meet at Fairfax and Melrose, but only after a perfectly blissful day trolling yard sales with the top off the car.  My pleasure at finding a pair for an extremely paltry sum was mitigated somewhat when I immediately matched the purchase price in buying a shade.  Anyway a victory for lighting and a thoroughly enjoyable process.

The rug experience was an interesting trip.  I have had my eye on a little store on La Brea that has had a “70% off, going out of business” banner.  Granted, I first noticed the banner when I was last here a few weeks ago and am now wondering if it would be more practical for them to mount it in neon as its permanence seems somewhat of a guarantee, but I thought it worth a trip.

I have never been rug shopping in India but I know people that have so I know this isn’t the same process as wandering into The Brick and slapping down the plastic.  The owner, a man called Ali Shah, greeted me with enthusiasm and we settled in to it.  He made me tea and was himself partaking of something in a china cup that was most definitely not tea.  He hauled rug after rug out, told me how I was his friend and how he was going to give me such a good deal.  (At one point in the proceedings he told me he had dated Sharon Stone.  That tea was some strong stuff, man). I protested my poverty, left and came back.  It was a perfect boxing match; Queensbury rules,  Ali vs Frazier.  Except the bobbing and weaving was left to my opponent.  After a couple of hours I came away with the two pictured below.  I don’t think either one of us got ripped off, we just emerged a little tired, sweaty and bloodied from our epic match.

Now, on to the task at hand:  Make a career here so I can buy more rugs.  Or go to India now that I am warmed up and try it in the big ring.

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