i left the south around 3pm, the sky slowly overcasting, a light shower briefly wetting the landscape. i stopped off at harvard square, parked off of oxford street with my visitor's parking permit, went to the cvs to pick up my prescription, went to the fleet to cash in one freelance check and one unemployment check. i then drove to my parents' cafe to return their car. i had some dinner there (actually, lunch), and then my father drove me back home, coming in for a little bit to help remove the blue tape from most of the kitchen walls and to reinstall some coverplates for the outlets and light switches. he also came by to teach me how to make the yang family chicken soup with the crockpot. i learned this once in college, but forgot most of it. a whole chicken, some mushrooms, some scallions, ginger, white pepper, salt, some cooking wine, that's pretty much it. after a few hours of stewing i had a bowl.
my hands are so dry but i'm afraid to buy moisturizing lotion because i don't want people to get the wrong idea about me. i'm all about wrong ideas, but if i had a bottle of moisturizing lotion in my house, i feel like i'd constantly be having to explain myself. sure, i could hide it, but that implies guilt, and i don't think there's anything wrong for a guy to buy lotion, except in the eyes of a critical (and somewhat perverse) society. but my hands are really dry! the back of my hands feel like sandpaper, i could even probably pass it off as minor eczema. damn this dry weather! i mean, i like it better than humid, but it's not good for my skin. i wish i was oilier. no, no i don't wish that. i wish i could just buy some lotion from the local convenience store and not get those derisive looks!