I had to stumble upon it in a café, when some chick left a notepad behind and I was this close to stealing it before my conscience got the better of me and I left it with the group of people nearby who were with her, as evidenced by the fact that they moved her coat and scarf to free the seat for me. Unless, of course, they were stealing her coat and scarf, in which case, NICE. But I’m not gonna lie–while I didn’t give a lick about taking her outerwear, I WOULD jump her in a dark alley to wrench this pad of thick, glossy graph paper from her ungrateful fists.
Instead, in one last ditch effort to save my soul, I held back on this impulse and called Flax, the one art store on my way to Japantown tonight. There were two sizes in particular I wanted and CUE THE CHORUS OF ANGELS, they had them! I had them held under ‘Sharon,’ as that extra ‘a’ on the end of my name was really pushing them over the edge, and sprinted over straight after work to score my bounty.
And–thanks to calling ahead–I TOTALLY nailed the last ones of the sizes I wanted. If that’s not proof in a loving Baby Jesus, I don’t know what is. Ten minutes later, with new pads and micron pigma pens (.35mm line width) in hand, I beamed about me, knowing that all was right in the world again.
Read about Rona’s Paper Cure