I’m on a budget that says…no, you can’t buy anything until work picks up. He’s very firm, that budget, so needless to say I’ve been behaving myself.
My credit cards have all gone to the mattresses, as they say in The Godfather…in seclusion waiting to bust out to knock off a few purchases when budget isn’t looking.
And one more thing…I’M FUCKING MISERABLE.
Camille and I went to Saks just to browse. Imagine going to the bakery to smell the bread. She was a real pal that day, not buying anything in front of me. At one point she gave me five bucks and sent me out for coffee while she got shoes.
When I saw the Jimmie Choo bag I hung my head in sorrow.
I’ve always worked, so this sojourn into sudden unemployment is quite disorienting. I will be posing for a photographer in June who wants to hire my upper back. I don’t know how I feel about selling body parts, but said yes anyway.
I then decided to buy myself something little, but what exactly. Even socks are pricy…dish towels? A used nighty on eBay? (UGH)
Then the matter was taken out of my hands when I found myself in Chinatown, an area I’m rarely in. There before me was a man selling bandanas in assorted colors.
“I’ll take a dozen,” I said, putting together a festive color palette. Of course, I don’t wear bandanas as a rule, but buying them felt so good, I can’t tell you. It was the first time I saw my wallet smile in a month.
Who am I referring to?
I’ll give you a hint.
She’s a friend of mine with bedroom eyes who’s very tall if she stands on a chair.
As for the other 11, I can tuck them into birthday cards for those I love, or who I don’t want to spend money on.
Sometimes a girl just needs a fix that comes in a shopping bag.