A couple days ago on Slog, which I know you read religiously because it's a Friend of EmilyTakesTokyo, Paul Constant wrote Rochambeau A-Go-Go, and linked to a bunch of amplified version of rock, paper, scissors. I don't have the stamina or memory to keep up with even the 25-choice version! Who does these things?
But I do have one to add for myself: shopping beats writing. Josh and I desperately need to get our house in order, since we really still haven't moved in. We finally sat down and listed what each room's function should be, in a perfect world, and have decided to set about making it happen.
Of course, we need stuff: dressers and bookcases and rugs and all those lovely bits and pieces that required to fit our American lives into a Japanese home. We've been on a mission this weekend, and we found a little set of drawers for Josh's T-shirts and such, and a bunch of sundry bits we've been needing.
But Internet, I am pooped! We spent FOUR HOURS looking for a Judo gi for Josh today - you'd think a martial arts uniform wouldn't be so tough to find in Japan. You'd be wrong. Even after all that time, lots of broken Japanese questions and broken English answers, the closest we came was one shop that was willing to order him one.
So I am pooped. We've been walking all day, and just like the last couple days I can't really think of anything to say. Is this January doldrums? Anybody else feeling a little uncommunicative this time of year?