Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
From top left, clockwise: Black leather vintage bag (formerly my grandmother's); White Linen Night fan; extra strength Tiger Balm; Mr. Price flats, from South Africa via Grace Young; vintage jewelry box (I think I bought it in the 3rd grade at a garage sale); brand-new clip-on bow tie; Coach "Maggie" bag (graduation present from Mommy), filled with notebooks, pens, planner, 2 books (Assata: An Autobiography and Eat, Pray, Love), topped off with my keys.
Moving is like having a baby--it sucks your life away. It breaks it. It's also very expensive. I'm so tired. I've spent so much money at Target this week because, and this is no exaggeration, I cannot bring myself to save a little bit at Wal-Mart. It's ridiculous. I've literally been to Wal-Mart 3 or 4 times with other people, and been about to pick up something, and have to put it back because. I. Can't. I'm getting poorer and I still need furniture (a table, a dresser), pots and pans, knives, maybe even a chair, and a futon for Grace Young when she comes to visit next month.
As with new babies, I am enamored and thrilled and exhausted. With my new life. With my new place. With my new life.