Cabin Fever - or how a single middle-aged woman talked herself into trying to mix and mingle

I work so hard on my work days that all I want to do is stay home on my off days and vegetate.

I must get out of this apartment.

That's easy enough. I'm off work today. I've already had my run. I'll go to The Galleria. I'll do...what? Find something fabulous to wear in San Diego? What do people wear in San Diego? I'm going to a spa. Should I buy spa clothes? What are spa clothes? Robes? Yoga pants? If I had my way I'd wear gym shorts and my vintage Who t'shirt from 1986.

I won't snag a gazillionaire that way.

I don't want to snag a gazillionaire. I want to snag a guy who might have seen the Who in 1986. I don't really want to "snag" anyone.

Yucky word, "snag".

How can I possibly meet someone shopping? I need to go to a music store, or a lunch counter.

I'd like to meet a man who understands that I went to a shitload of concerts and that the hearing in my left ear isn't that great but I'm too vain to get my hearing checked because I manage and I'm only 50 and I don't want to even consider what a hearing aid would do to my: (1) appearance or (2) career. (How would I manage a stethoscope?)

I'd like to meet a man who won't be freaked out by a woman who says "shitload" once in a blue moon.

I'd like to meet a man who appreciates a woman who says things like "blue moon", but not often.

I'd like to meet a man. There's a start.

I must get out of this apartment.