After looking up the other CVS locations within several blocks of my office, it was discovered that there were four more besides the two I had already checked. Phew! We wouldn't want the people of downtown D.C. go without their prescriptions, haircare products, and pantyhose. My goal in sight, I set out for the first of the CVS Stores in question. I headed down K Street to what I hoped would be the best bet (as it was the closest), 15th and K. Even though it was a smaller store, I was hopeful, as they had appeared to have just gotten a shipment of various and sundry items. But no Almay. I wasn't worried. I still had three other stores to visit, and one was bound to have what I needed.
Heading in the opposite direction, I set out for 19th and K. Bigger than the previous store, but still lacking, I turned around and headed for the store that was at 20th and L. It was getting hot, and I was getting frustrated, but I had my goal in mind and refused to entertain ideas that my face would remain unpainted indefinitely. I soldiered on. The store at 20th and L was huge -- and yet still sadly did not have what I needed. They carried Almay, but were again sold out. With one more location to check and hope fading, I started to think maybe I'd alter my plan, spend my money on lunch at Chipotle instead, and become the kind of woman who doesn't wear makeup. As I hoofed the additional block and a half to the final CVS, I imagined myself as A Woman Who Doesn't Wear Makeup. It would shave valuable minutes off of my morning, allowing for extra sleep or a healthy breakfast. Without makeup, I'd be appreciated for my inner beauty. Yes, and I'd save money! This was starting to sound like a good plan . . . until I arrived at 20th and M and caught a glimpse of my un-made face in the window on the door. It wasn't pretty. It was haggard and desperately in need of bronzer.
Too bad the 20th and M CVS also did not have the product I needed. I stumbled back out into the midday heat, practically delirious from all the walking and the thought of remaining a plain Jane indefinitely. I walked back toward 19th and L, determined to find some kind of product that would suit my needs. I couldn't let it end this way. I wasn't going to go out this way. I altered my expectations (isn't that a metaphor for life?), and picked another product (and a lipgloss for good measure) and went to the checkout armed with a $5 coupon (because at least I was going to save some money on the deal). Lo and behold, the universe was smiling (or at least smirking) on me that day . . . and with the coupon and another discount, the lipgloss was free! Whatever, it sounds good, but the universe owed me that lipgloss after the Great Bronzer Relay of 2010. I grudgingly took my wares and headed back to the office.
Later that day, WH and I met up with the Gay Lawyer and his partner, the Gay Historian, for happy hour drinks at Ceiba (I highly recommend the empanadas and samosas). I was regaling the group with my tale of woe, only to have WH inform me that, "there's a CVS right next door, you know." What? Could it be? Was there another chance to get what I really needed? Was the universe going to provide after all? GL and I got the same twinkle in our eye and sprinted for the door. We giggled like children as we speed walked to the final CVS of the journey -- only to be let down again.
|See those blank spots? |
That's where the makeup would be, if they had it in stock.
Photo courtesy of Gay Lawyer