Tiny Toiletries

Am I the only person who feels that you aren't truly going somewhere new unless you've purchased travel-sized toiletries? I figured as long as I planned to leech the Fred Meyer wireless I might as well buy some shit, and so I now have in my possession tiny soap, tiny shampoo, tiny conditioner, tiny toothpaste.... Taking a page from my roommate's book, I have been pretending to be a giant.

Enormous.

Speaking of the roommate, we met for lunch downtown today and had a quasi leave-taking. We went to Kenny and Zuke's, because I figured that the most unlikely food I'll find in Scotland would be Jewish deli, and because I've been craving salt to replace all the sodium I lost in my Sunday night meltdown. Also, that place is really expensive but I had accidentally stolen $17.00 from Fred Meyer earlier today, and so I figured that maybe if I put that money right back into the local economy, it might not count as theft, but rather...restructuring.

Anyway, post-lunch, roommate and I walked back toward her office, at which point I attempted to say goodbye and asked if I could give her a hug. She said no. Reader, we have lived together for five years and now when I'm moving all the way around the entire world, no hugs? I knew we were Norwegian, but unnskyld meg! we could have been married by now. Actually, given our ethnic proclivities, this may be a sign that we actually are married...

Magnets in our heads.

Ultimately, she relented because I pouted. Then I made her take a picture with me in public, so now she never wants to see me again.

Even given my apparent campaign to ensure that everyone I leave behind is more than ready to see me gone (by engaging in obnoxious, self-involved and otherwise socially unacceptable behavior), I feel better about the whole enterprise today. I think it's because of my tiny soaps.