Confession Time

I have a confession to make.

You know how I mentioned in one of my first few posts that I hate to shop?

If you don't, you don't need to go digging through the archives. That about covers it. I hate to shop. I buy clothes for myself at Costco. Why? No dressing rooms, so I don't have to try them on. That's how much I hate to shop. Plus, the mens' jeans are actually long enough to reach my shoes, and cost $13. Sold!

No, the jeans don't actually look good on me. Why? Is that important?

And, while I love shoes, I don't really shop for shoes, exactly. When I need a new pair, I go and I buy shoes. As quickly as possible. Go to store. Try on. Pay. Get out. Fast, hurry hurry!

But there is one nasty little exception.

If it is something for the house, I will be pressed up against the windows long after closing time, drooling and whimpering, scaring the help. Doesn't matter if it's a couch, a chair, a vase or some placemats. Or, say, olive forks. Okay, so I hate olives, but that hardly matters. I would still have to have them.

I don't know if it's because the house doesn't balloon wildly through size after size, an 8 one month and a 10 the next, careening off through the double digits faster than you can say "chocolate mousse". Maybe if the living room woke up one day, and the 6 foot mohair Chesterfield sofa was just a little too tight, and I knew I'd never be able to sit in it again, I'd be less interested in accessorizing it lovingly with a chocolate leather ottoman, and adorning the walls around it with a new coat of deep caramel paint. But you know that sinful, rich, insatiably luscious leather sofa? And that crystalline celadon glass vase? The just-this-side-of-acid green slubbed silk drapes? Mine. Mine, mine. Mine. I just haven't bought them yet. So get up. Out of my couch. I don't care if it's still in the store. You can't sit on it. Mine.

The only thing that saves me, and my bank account, from the decorating binge I can feel building is that my bank account can't even afford the olive forks right now.

Stupid bank. Like I really need to put in more money than I take out.