I have been obsessing for a month about getting a new purse. Part of it has to do with my inherent need to simply obsess about something and since Anthony Ervin has apparently blocked me from his Twitter account/consciousness, I need a new focus. But another part of it is that I've decided my upcoming return trip to NYC will require something far more chic than my garage sale/thrift store bags [which I took last year but nevermind coherent thought] in order for it to be THE VACATION OF A LIFETIME (please be sure you say that in a booming voice, with reverb).
In shopping days past, I would see drool-worthy purses I loved but passed them by because a) didn't feel a real need for one at the time and b) they cost more than my wedding dress, even considering 20 years of inflation. So armed with the irrational belief that heading to NYC gives me permission to now spend upwards of $500 for just the right life-changing handbag, I figured I'd spy it within an hour's jaunt through the mall, earn some Disney reward points on the smoking credit card, and drive home in a heady stupor.
Of course not. When do we EVER find just what we want when we want it upon entering the most wretched place on Earth after The Store That Shall Not Be Named? And after weeks of looking (sometimes in the same stores, on the same shelves, as if The One will magically make itself visible to my faithful heart), I am ready to go all Christian Bale crazy on the clerks. However, since my stellar work in counseling, I can let it go.
For now.
My trip is still four months away.
