Greenie is now mine. Linda bought her car, another Toyota, and since it will be the car that we take on trips, it won't be long before it has more miles than Greenie. My car is a 1999, and yet only has 23,000 miles on it. Like the last decade didn't even happen -- you know, like the stock market.
I feel guilty about abandoning the Black Dragon to the heartless car dealership; but I keep telling myself I'm being silly. It's a car, stupid.
Last night, we went to Fred Meyer and pretty much bought an entire wardrobe for me.
I was down to my last pair of jeans, which had holes in the knees, and down to my last pair Dockers, which because I've expanded an inch in the waist had shrunk an inch in length. My Rockports shoes(5 years old?) had sprung leaks. My underwear and socks were very saintly (you know, very holy.) My nice leather coat I got for Christmas 4 years ago had a broken zipper, both of my belts were broken, and so and so on.
I shop so seldom, I tend to buy absolutely everything at the same time.
I'm going to go through my closet and be ruthless and throw away or donate just about everything I have in there.
The cars I'm justifying because they have airbags, and in the case of Linda's car, side-airbags as well. All we had were seatbelts in the old cars. I suppose a new car every 20 years of so isn't going overboard.
I'm even -- gasp, thinking of buying a big-screen T.V. I'm going to get the biggest and best out there -- that isn't custom -- and that will be it.
I'm turning into an actual consumer. I won't be able to be holier than thou, anymore. It turns out, I'm weak in the face of temptation....
7 hours ago