Ode to Retail Therapy

As I wait in a tense state of high anxiety for the final surgical pathology (update: it came in with no surprises, yay) on my breast cancer I yearn for the good old days of retail therapy. OMG, what I'd give to have a pocketful of loose change that didn't belong to one collection agency or another. I would so lose myself in any number of therapeutic facilities, aka stores. When a doctor tells me there's a 90% chance there will be no surprises in the pathology, all I hear is that there is a 10% chance of surprises. In my head, the 10% outsizes the 90%. Oy vey. 

For those of you who have experienced the benefits of retail therapy, you know of what I write. It soothes the manic state while having the added benefit of helping the economy--though my motivation is not necessarily all that benevolent. No, in truth, retail therapy is all about SELF-help. Alas, I will have to try a good walk instead.

LATER: Took the walk. During the walk I thought about the above post and realized that even if I had the scratch I would likely not spend it on clothing. That was then. Not now. Clothing has become what keeps me warm in cold weather and cool in warm weather, and good if comfortable and matches (but not too much) and doesn't have holes, though certain holes can be well-earned and honorable. Otherwise ... my closet has plenty. Retail therapy today would be a new camera. I can lose myself in taking photos. That would be a treat. Maybe an iPad, because the new iPad takes pics and, I believe, videos, too. I could lose myself with an iPad, too.