links for 2006-12-20
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Oh, please let this be so: legal downloads of Doctor Who? (Released at the same time as in the UK? Puleeeze?) Red Dwarf, too? (Thanks, Sarah!)
It’s annoying enough that, when you need commercial cold medicine, you’re generally in such a befuddled and cotton-wool-wrapped state (well, I am, at least) that the vast array of options and slight variations on a theme is mind-boggling. Trying to find one that’s vegan, without any goopy inactive filler ingredients, and one that treats just the symptoms you have and not a gazillion others that you don’t, is enough to make you storm out of the store in an indignant, if somewhat congested, snit. (The expedition sparking this mini-rant occurred yesterday over lunch. I spent most of the day today lying on the futon, groaning faintly when I had to move, and explaining repeatedly to the dog that no, I really was not interested in playing fetch at the moment, and that it was probably best that he not stand on my stomach.)
First narrow the field by ruling out all the things that contain unnecessary medicine: antifebriles (my temperature has been elevated a bit, but has only barely reached triple [Fahrenheit] digits and hasn’t stayed there long; it’s not worth fighting such a wimpy fever), cough suppressants, cures for aches and pains. All I need is something that will unclog my skull and enable me to have some sort of vaguely coherent contact with the outside world. The meds that are left after the culling, though, usually contain something icky. Probably about half the decongestants I checked contained lactose as a filler. The little slippery pills have gelatin capsules. Most of the syrups contain glycerine from unspecified sources, which usually means that they use whatever’s cheapest at the moment.
When I’ve got a cold, I am not in the mood to stand there and read labels full of long-named ingredients. I am generally doing well to be standing upright and not swaying overly much. Thus, I’ve gotten to where I take refuge in other stuff: licorice or other decongestant herbal teas, an ocean of various juices, drops that are supposed to shorten the cold’s duration. They all seem to help about as much as anything, though I will say it’s a bit more of a nuisance to keep having to microwave cups of water for hot tea than it is to take a pill and forget about it for the next four hours or so. Still, at least I have a little more control over what it is I’m consuming, and at least I stay hydrated.
One thing I do kind of miss: lotion-impregnated tissues. I’ve been sworn off paper tissues for a year or two now, and generally handkerchiefs are fine — except when you’ve got a cold. About day four or five, my nose usually looks like some sort of festive light-up holiday ornament, possibly reindeer-oriented. Bleagh. It’s no worse than with non-lotion paper tissues, but I miss the lotion. I wonder whether there’s a way to add just a touch of lotion to handkerchiefs, so you don’t rub your nose raw when you’re sick?
Every so often, I get junk mail that makes me wonder what bizarre mailing list I’ve managed to land myself on, and, more importantly, how. I think the strangest was probably the Republican fundraising campaign that kept assuring me that they knew how important Republican values are to me (ha!), but today’s entry was also a fair contender: an offer for a free issue of a shopping-related magazine, complete with marketing questionnaire.
Now, I’ll admit that I have my moments of acquisitiveness and avarice. Don’t turn me loose in a bookstore without a chaperone, especially an old-fashioned secondhand bookshop with really good scifi from the 1960s and 1970s. Otherwise, I will totter out an hour or two later with as many books as I can possibly carry, my fingers straining to support the massive pile o’ books, my navigation entirely sonar-based because I won’t be able to see over the books I’m hugging to my chest. I have been known to go insane in well-stocked vegan-friendly grocery stores and buy boxes of cupcake sprinkles for which I have no earthly use. My wardrobe is probably fairly sizeable, as well, though leaning heavily toward black — though, to be fair, probably half of it is old, bordering on ancient, but still worn. (One of my favorite shirts, actually, is a slightly modified version of an old top from circa 1988.) I do have a fair few DVDs, as well. Anyway, the point is that I’m aware I have shopping-related foibles and much room for improvement, but if today’s survey is anything to go by (buy?), I’m one step away from being Barbara Good.
First item: “Estimate the number of times per month you shop for fashion items?” Firstly, that isn’t properly a question, so why the fack does it have a question mark? Secondly, the lowest choice is one to two times a month. Assuming they count socks, I think I average probably six times a year. (The highest option was over 10 times a month. Are they perhaps just counting browsing or window shopping as “shopping for fashion items”? That’s the only way I could see their numbers being at all believable.)
Later questions deal with how many items you currently own — handbags (lowest number considered possible: three to six!) and shoes (lowest: six to ten!). I’ll grant that I own two spiky backpacks and an elderly purse from Kambriel.com — so old, in fact, that it dates from back when they were called Atrocities; I also have a messenger bag with my employer’s logo, which I got for free at the Quebec meeting but have actually used, as well as a largish collection of canvas shopping bags for groceries (also mostly freebies from conventions, albeit from my parents’ trips instead of mine).
But who could possibly own “more than 15″ purses, or “more than 25 pairs” of shoes? And more importantly, why? Even if you’ve been collecting for years, how could you possibly find 25 or more shoes that are affordable, cute, wearable, and at least reasonably comfortable, without having at least some duplicates? (Most women’s shoes I’ve seen fail dramatically in at least one of those categories.) How could you possibly have the space to keep all of those organized? I am admittedly somewhat, um, haphazard in my housekeeping, but I have difficulty keeping my six pairs of wearable shoes organized. (Okay, I do have a seventh pair, but there’s a hole in the sole of each shoe and I haven’t gotten them repaired yet. I can’t throw them out, because I’ve had them forever [circa 16 years] and lurrrve their velvet and their hourglass heels. So, okay, I have more shoes than I probably need and am thus hypocritical. Bite me.)
I think the question that startled me the most, though, was about what factors influence your choice of where to shop. The options range from “I go wherever my friends take me” (really!) to “additional amenities (beauty salon, etc.).” There is no mention of supporting independent businesses and artists, or ethical or even vaguely patriotic concerns (e.g., buying U.S.-made clothes certified to be sweatshop-free). There isn’t even an option to specify “other qualities” beyond style, comfort, value, and “match[ing] the new outfit I just bought” when considering shoe purchases. It’s not that I necessarily expect the survey writers to anticipate that some people actively look for, say, animal-free shoes that are, we hope, produced by people paid a fair, livable wage under reasonable working conditions; it’s just frustrating that they failed to include even the weasel option of “other.”
It’s not that I’m perfect; I have bought things on impulse, and probably bought things that were produced under less than perfect working conditions. I screw up sometimes. The important point, though, is that these are real concerns, albeit imperfectly applied, and it’s somewhat startling to find that they’re not even mentioned in passing in a consumption survey.
(Caveat: I’ve got a bit of a cold, so please chalk up any egregious typos or omissions to the fact that my sinuses seem to be occupying a slightly different time-space continuum than the rest of my physical being, and my eyes are all itchy and dry and keep refusing to focus properly.)
I moved into my flat in early 2004; since then, I’ve been replacing the original light bulbs with CFLs (compact fluorescents) as the old ones die — which seems to take a while, because I tend to use task or area lighting (i.e., local lamps) in preference to overhead light whenever possible. Today, after nearly three years, one of the bulbs in the kitchen died.
Though I’ve got a modest stockpile of regular CFLs, I’ve been dreading the kitchen bulbs’ deaths because the fixtures are recessed and the bulbs are funnel-shaped — you’re not supposed to use regular coil- or bulb-shaped CFLs in recessed fixtures. It looks as if my local Lowe’s has the reflective CFLs recommended for replacing reflective incandescents, but there are two problems with this.
Firstly, the closest Lowe’s is in Edgewood, and I’m not entirely sure where that is in relation to me — the directions tool on the Lowe’s site says it’s only 1.7 miles from me, but most of the streets are given as numbers instead of names, so I have no clue. Successful navigaton is a fragile enough art for me that I need all the help I can get, and numbers just aren’t going to cut it. My theory is that it’s in the massive, creepy brick faux old-fashioned downtown-type shopping complex just past Little Five Points, in which all the buildings look alike and there are a gazillion chain stores (well, I know there’s a Target and a Best Buy; I usually get creeped out by the theme park-like aura and run away quickly, so I’m not sure what else is there). On the other hand, I thought that complex was a bit farther than 1.7 miles: maybe two or three miles. Maybe I’m wrong; it does seem to be off Moreland, and the creepy fake shopping complex is the only place I can think it might be.
Secondly, of course, I’d much prefer to buy from a locally owned retailer, but, as usual, I run into problems with knowing exactly where to go. Maybe I’ll check the Ace Hardware a couple blocks from me — it’s a chain, too, but at least they’re locally owned, and every time I’ve been in there they’ve actually noticed my presence and offered to help. In the bigger home improvement stores, I generally have to set my hair on fire (or wear a shirt with a plunging neckline) to get the clerks’ attention.
If I can’t find a locally owned retailer, then I’d prefer one that is at least vaguely green: although they do at least let you filter products by whether they’re Energy Star rated, which I really appreciate, Lowe’s Web site doesn’t even have an environmental policy link anywhere on its home page! (WTF is up with that?) My first thought was IKEA, which is not perfect — are their restaurants still using eggs from caged hens? I haven’t heard that they’ve switched to cage-free — but does at least try, and also is where we take the batteries collected in our recycling program at work.* It would be good to reward them with some business, though I dread the idea of dealing with the crowds there on a weekend. Unfortunately, their Web site doesn’t list reflective CFLs among the available options. For both environmental and sanity preservation reasons, there is just no way I’m going to trek all the way over there on the off chance that they might have the bulbs I need. I’ll walk to Ace, and then walk down to the scary brick shopping center if necessary. Even if it’s more than 1.7 miles, as I think it is, I’ve got time, there are actually sidewalks along that path so it should be reasonably safe despite the traffic, and I’ve got gloves and a warm bobble hat to keep out the cold (it’s actually kind of chilly here! wheee!). Given that I’ve hardly done any serious walking at all — walking the dog doesn’t count, because he must stop and sniff things every ten seconds — since returning from my trip, I could certainly use the exercise.
Now I just need to find a place to recycle the old incandescent light bulb. IKEA recycles CFLs (which contain mercury, and thus really shouldn’t be chucked out) as well as batteries, but I’m not sure where you can recycle reflective incandescents. Earth911 doesn’t even have a category for them. Hmm. Any ideas, anyone?
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*At work, we made our first battery recycling dropoff this week. Two hundred eighty-four alkaline batteries were saved from the landfill and/or waste incinerators! Yay, us — and yay to everyone who’s participated. I’m so pleased that people were willing to bring their dead batteries to the drop-off places around the building, rather than just chucking them in the trash. People even brought batteries in from home!


