Monday, January 9, 2012
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It was just a few days before Christmas, and I was at Barnes and Noble buying a gift for my brother-in-law. I was also searching in vain for a paperblanks 2012 slim dayplanner, because my husband buys me one every year except THIS year B&N didn't seem to carry them, goddammit. There I was, searching the end-caps, unaware that my muse sat around the corner, just waiting for me. It had been left on a shelf that it clearly did not belong on. From the moment that I set eyes on it, I wanted it. Oh, I didn't admit that, at first, not even to myself. I flipped through it, thinking, "This is great!" I told myself that it would be perfect for my bella figlia...only, I'd already bought her more than enough gifts. Several moments passed as I warred with myself, trying to justify buying it, before the truth dawned on me: what I really wanted, in my heart of hearts, was to buy it for myself. It was such a selfish thought that I shivered a little with the thrill it gave me. It sat, fat and smug in my hands, whispering, "Buy me." So I did.
Posted by Shangrila at 8:09 PM