I'm having a difficult time thinking straight today, an issue that has to do with things such as quality, money, morality, and the fact that I can't find a handbag that I like that won't a.) fall apart on first usage or b.) cost more than a car payment. Or c.) stay on my shoulder where it belongs. Or d.) compel me to hide the label when I'm at Target because, really, who do I think I am? Or e.) damn my eternal soul for even spending more than five minutes worrying about a handbag, of all things. I am considering the option of carrying my wallet and lip balm in a paper sack from now on. Or maybe switching to a fanny pack. Fanny packs are back in, right?
One year of selling handbags to celebrities at Nordstrom eight years ago and I am ruined, people. Ruined. I was much better off when I worked at Walgreen's that summer after my college freshman year. Fluorescent lights, slow-jazz versions of Nirvana on Muzak, empty (stolen) condom boxes to clean up every night, and that 32-year-old blonde-haired blue-eyed leather-skinned over-permed ex-cheerleader from the makeup counter who would sit across from me at the break table every day, and between each shaky chain-smoker's drag of her cigarette she would glare at me with narrowed eyes and say, "You never get out. (inhaaaale.) You think you will. You think, It's just one summer. And then fifteen years go by... (exhaaaale cough cough cough)"
I kid you not. Aaand the next summer I got a job at the grocery store. But you know what? I had a crappy handbag then and I loved it. So there.
Incidentally, I think I might be the most neurotic person I know.
Anyway, because my mind is too addled to write anything thoughtful today, here are some cute pictures of my Lena. She has been begging to get frozen yogurt after school, so I took her on Tuesday. The food was absolutely terrible. I mean, it tasted like dirt, for reals. But we had a great time, and she spent the majority of it a.) drawing and b.) smiling ear to ear. Maybe this is how to cure neurosis. Or maybe this is just the incentive. Either way, as it turns out, six dollars for crappy frozen yogurt holds much more value than any money I will ever spend on any handbag.
|Look, Mom! It's a girl horse and a boy horse and they're falling in love!|
And that is all the financial advice I have for you today.