a non-productive day

I need a new lamp shade.

Before, buying a lampshade would have been easy.

Take a bus down to the lamp shade store.

Find and buy a shade.

Come home.

Now it's a major effort.

I call the owner of the store a couple of weeks ago. He's up in Connecticut, because the store is closed. It's not an essential service. But he tells me he comes into the city every two weeks or so and he'll let me know next time he's coming in.

He does.

So yesterday I bring in the lamp base. 

I won't take a bus which means I'll be walking with a very heavy object.

I take out a small rolling suitcase and somehow get the lamp base in it, though I can't zip it. But as long as I keep the suitcase at an angle, I should be okay.

In a separate bag, I carry fabric samples of my sofa, rug and chair, an extra-mask that is more protective than the one I wear for walking, and gloves (for when I'm in the store).

By the time I walk the 1.5 miles to the store, I am hot and tired, feeling like I've walked 10 miles through the Sahara.

Joe is expecting me. I am the only one in the store, and Joe spends a lot of time with me.

The closest we come to something I like is a simple, bone-colored silk shade. 

I tell Joe I want to think about it. It's nice, but I'm not loving it. He says I can leave the base, and I do.

I exit the store, change into my less-protective outdoor mask, and walk the 1.5 miles home. 

I make a stop at Agata.

Come home, then realize I've  left my rolling suitcase at Agata's.

I go back to reclaim in.

Come home again.

Wash my hands and disinfect.

I'm now totally spent.

Addendum:
I wake up this morning still thinking about the lamp shade. Perhaps it's the base I don't like, and so no lamp shade is really going to work. I can get obsessed over the smallest thing.

I look online and see a glo-ball light by Flos that I like. But that, too, is pretty expensive.

I look at the space one more time, and then it hits me.

I move a floor lamp I have from one place (where it really doesn't belong) and voila:

I think it works. And it costs zero.

Now, how do I tell wonderful Joe?