I believe I missed posting last week. Last week was insane. I worked 9 days straight, had Wednesday off in which I met a friend for lunch and avoided the post office (see last blog), and then worked some more. In between shifting from all-nightshifts to what-the-hell-is-dayshift, I’ve been watching a lot of television. I started with Taboo, which is pretty great show, and moved on to Hoarders.
One episode and I couldn’t clean my room fast enough. It got me thinking about the value I attach to things. Some of it is sentimental: the ceramic pencil holder my grandmother gave me, gifts from long-age relatives. Some is basically my being unable to toss it. I realize I’ve a bit of a shopping habit. I’ve cut back a lot since graduating and acquiring more (substantial) bills, but I often resort to “retail therapy,” which, let’s be honest, isn’t healthy for me or my wallet.
I also keep things I swear I’ll use, and notoriously never do. Remember that notebook craze? Well, I do use them, I just don’t use them fast enough. I have a lot of things from college, a lot of random things that mysteriously found their way to me, and it’s all packed in a tiny, tiny room. Most of it is posters I haven’t room enough to hang. One day, I will get out of this room.
The only thing I feel like I don’t hoard are books. Which is actually a hoard I use. Frequently.
It also gave me some insight on a certain person. Shopping is an addiction, and while we aren’t in dire straights, we really don’t have cash to be throwing around. My sister went out shopping for school clothes; the person in question came back with a Coach bag. Another Coach bag. A bag which she did not need. Said person is always exclaiming how we’re poor and will be homeless in 3 months (which is hyperbole), and yet, there is a brand new bag in her closet.
The kicker is, she doesn’t go anywhere. She doesn’t even bring a bag to work. The purse is going to sit in her closet. The purchase whets her shopping lust, and it’s only a matter of time before she goes for a matching wallet. Seriously. That’s what happened last time. She’d gotten her first Coach as a Christmas gift and then insisted she couldn’t keep a Target wallet in a Coach bag. I should have smelled trouble then.
I fully believe she did it because she knew I was working; in other words, I wasn’t there to protest. I’m simply waiting for other shoe to drop.
Speaking of waiting, I’ve been dying again, and it’s time to wash the foam from out my cherry brown hair. I was rocking a fabulous foam pompadour earlier. Sorry you missed it