I'm so tired of sitting shivah for the death of consumer products. The whole ritual is so familiar. You go to the Walgreen's (yes, I know, that definite article; very Chicago), or flip through a catalog, and suddenly there's this ominous, but very familiar groping about in a suddenly empty space. Oh no. They're not making....____ anymore. My brand. My special kind of brand. My version of the brand. You look, and look, and know that this is the beginning of a period of futile wishing, of hoping you'll even write aletter to complain about the loss of the one thing you've found that so perfectly keeps yer pits dry/moisturizes yer face/compliments your skin tone, and know that even if you got it together to do that...it's all over. It's all over except hanging on to the packaging for too long in the hopes that it might help you urban-archevate it someday. Recognize it if you saw it.

The newest loss? Clean & Clear facial wash for sensitive skin. Cheap, effective, good for my skin. I'm not up for navigating the Greek that is the dance of will-I-pay-this-price? beauty-product buying.

More first-world angst: It is a sad time of the year for me when my super-convenient free city trolley that whips me down the 10/12 blocks to my home suddenly becomes the over-burdened, hyper-slow, tourist-laden, misanthropy-inducing, lumbering milk run of a charabanc that is more trouble than it's worth. Ah spring. Fucking tourists.