notjustaboutsex

One of the new habits I’ve acquired over Covid Time, is succumbing to the IGOS syndrome, known by me and possibly thousands of other homebound folks, as Immediate Gratification Obsessional Shopping. Countless hours spent logging onto Facebook flushes the brain with things you can’t live without…items to awaken one’s deepest security needs rooted out by robots and marketed back to us during the hours better spent sleeping. My niche has been comfy accessories for the nest; anything for the dog (since we’re spending so much time together) and beautification techniques for worldly re-entry. These distractions provide a pleasant change from hospital updates and breaking news of any sort. Since shopping live has been truncated except for hardware and drugs, these little jewels of seduction have established the new fix.

My building has been basically empty for months, so when the delivery person arrives, it is my bell that is rung. I’ve received jars of zinc and vitamin C, an already mentioned Winky Dink kit, and a few books. But the larger items never seem to arrive late and because of theft in these tiny tenements, I’ve taken on the watch dog role. Still, what happened to my special band aids for removing annoying skin tags? I assumed without dermatological visits my back’s mole collection would grow as quickly as my hair, and why not learn to do the job myself?  I have no idea if they would be safe and effective because they never showed up. Then there was the very cheap and special comforter that can be used in the hottest weather and made of naturally breathable fibers. I postponed washing my old comforter in anticipation of the new one, but to my surprise, all I received from China was the world’s ugliest pillowcase, stars and stripes surrounding images of some of the world’s most iconic buildings. Who would want to rest their head on that? I think the design was so old it included the World Trade Towers. The lightweight dog coat bought in March may show up in December, along with the fluffy green summer carpet. But the special fan with a device to pour water into for that extra cool feeling, is lost somewhere between the Black Sea and the East River.

It’s understandable that those ‘third eye’ face masks being produced by indigenous folk for a women’s cooperative in Mexico are late, but where the hell is my copy of “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas?”

When confronting the sellers, I get the argument that they are very sorry but if I want to send it back (pillow case), I’ll have to pay a 20-dollar return fee.  PayPal hasn’t been so helpful with these things and I suppose the companies take full advantage of that. They are now offering me 20, then 30, then up to 50 per cent back refund on the undelivered order. I’m beginning to wonder if this is a new business model.

There is so much fall out from these times…little mom and pop’s closing all over… I bought a tiny xylophone from a stationary store that’s served the West Village for years… rent too high … and these people won’t retire, they have to look for other jobs.

On the ‘up’ side, there is plenty of free merch. Either people are cleaning out or moving On. I was able to juggle home a meta, pink outdoors chair for the roof. For the last few blocks I was kindly assisted by a newish resident from near Corpus Christie, Texas. He was sweet, strong and optimistic…”just think, if all the one percenters move away, and rents go down, then the artists can return and New York can be what it is stands for… diversity and creativity.”

 I couldn’t have dreamt it better.