I think one new year resolution should be ; I shall not oversleep. This is getting too much of a habit. Let me see what I can blame it on. This year I haven't even used my duvet much. But in my wardrobe, where things seem to grow suddenly, I have found this tartan blanket, and since tartan is all the range on catwalks, then why not on my bed. The thing is this tartan thing seems to have the power to throw me into sleep so deep only a prince could wake up, or, in my case, only loads of telephone calls, mobile calls, and a bomb is able to wake me up. And then it's not a very hurried wake up call either. Really, Go should make an effort to turn their wake up call into a crashing forte, as it is, I am wasting so much money on wake up calls which are going unheard. But anyway, sleep is good for beauty, or beauty is good for sleep, it could be either way.
I am also tempted to hit the shops, seeing it'll be the sales. But what if the shops are closed and the sales start tomorrow, then it would be a waste of woman power. I don't need anything, but when did shopping be shopping for need? It's always shopping for what I want. And what I want somehow turns into what I need once they're in a shiny shop window which must be cleaned at least four times a day. I don't need shoes, but I know where there is a red leather pair of boots and if I go anywhere near them, they'll suddenly be the thing I need the most. I want to go to Sliema, but I'm not sure I'm prepared. Because I'll inevitably end up buying so many things which I never thought of in the first place, but which suddenly become a need in the second place. Then I'll load my car with these things, and that in itself is an experience. I also have seen a white Chanel bag to go with my white boots, but the problem, or the good miracle, was that the shop was closed. And yes I've been again only to find that the bag was taken. I wanted to stamp my feet in the white boots in frustration. That was my bag and nobody else's and yet somebody else is wearing it. I could have cried, I wanted to badly. But that wouldn't really have spelt sophistication. And I remembered in sheer joy that I actually own a white Chanel bag anyway, and although it isn't big as I wanted, then I have a Versace bag in white and in a size which could carry my shopping around easily. That is my problem. I buy, and I forget. And at times when I realise that my shopping is way out of order, then I think how good I am to the economy. The economy which I know nothing about, but which I am so good to, although not good at. Another problem is my memory; my memory of things having been bought. I don't know what it is, I have a rather good memory in all other spheres, it's just that the sparkle of possessing new things fills up my brain to the limit so much so I have no more space for other types of memories.
So what is it I want? I'll find out soon enough, the minute I hit the shops. Then somehow I'll realise that it's actually what I need and I cannot go without. Strange thing this brain of mine.
I am also tempted to hit the shops, seeing it'll be the sales. But what if the shops are closed and the sales start tomorrow, then it would be a waste of woman power. I don't need anything, but when did shopping be shopping for need? It's always shopping for what I want. And what I want somehow turns into what I need once they're in a shiny shop window which must be cleaned at least four times a day. I don't need shoes, but I know where there is a red leather pair of boots and if I go anywhere near them, they'll suddenly be the thing I need the most. I want to go to Sliema, but I'm not sure I'm prepared. Because I'll inevitably end up buying so many things which I never thought of in the first place, but which suddenly become a need in the second place. Then I'll load my car with these things, and that in itself is an experience. I also have seen a white Chanel bag to go with my white boots, but the problem, or the good miracle, was that the shop was closed. And yes I've been again only to find that the bag was taken. I wanted to stamp my feet in the white boots in frustration. That was my bag and nobody else's and yet somebody else is wearing it. I could have cried, I wanted to badly. But that wouldn't really have spelt sophistication. And I remembered in sheer joy that I actually own a white Chanel bag anyway, and although it isn't big as I wanted, then I have a Versace bag in white and in a size which could carry my shopping around easily. That is my problem. I buy, and I forget. And at times when I realise that my shopping is way out of order, then I think how good I am to the economy. The economy which I know nothing about, but which I am so good to, although not good at. Another problem is my memory; my memory of things having been bought. I don't know what it is, I have a rather good memory in all other spheres, it's just that the sparkle of possessing new things fills up my brain to the limit so much so I have no more space for other types of memories.
So what is it I want? I'll find out soon enough, the minute I hit the shops. Then somehow I'll realise that it's actually what I need and I cannot go without. Strange thing this brain of mine.
