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Eye Doctor and Errands Style for a Wednesday in July. . .

 

As above. . .

So below.  Not seen is my usual dark brown braided leather belt, which I always wear with this particular pair of shoes.

 

Out and about yesterday morning, still wearing my light blue oxford cloth surgical masks, for a quick check-in with Dr. L., followed by a few errands.  And all within about five minutes of home.

As usual, I was the only male, of any age, in the clinic (or a few big box retail establishments visited on the way home) wearing more than a t-shirt and some king of grubby shoes-shorts combination.  Sigh. 

It boggle the mind how so many can contemplate leaving the house dressed as though they have dumped the overloaded dirty laundry basket on the floor and pulled out the least grubby items to drag onto their bodies before shambling through the door and schlepping themselves to the car for a five-minute drive up the street.  

More often than not, there are visible stains of one kind or another on their attire.  It's hard not to notice these sorts of details from 10 or 12 feet away.  And it is rampant judging by the number of people out and about in such garments. 

Don't people think any better of themselves?  You can't help but wonder.  But God forbid you should say anything.  It's an interesting contrast to a country like Mexico, where even the poor make more effort to look presentable, are better turned out overall, and it is only street drunks propped in doorways of rundown buildings who look as down and out.

Sooner, or later, the pendulum must surely begin to swing the other way.  Right?  We can only hope.

On a more positive note, my ophthalmologist did greet me with a firm handshake yesterday.  Latex gloves were on, which I fully understand and support, but he did not try to bump fists or elbows during this visit, which I simply will not do with anyone.  It's just a little too 'bro' for my tastes.  

And I enjoy adulthood.

-- Heinz-Ulrich



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