Somewhere in my head i added up the price of my virtually shiny electronic airline ticket and the last month’s rent on my old apartment and the deposit on my new apartment and came up with an answer that equaled a whirlwind Labor Day shopping spree on South Street, and my wallet is still huddled down at the farthest corner of my pocket shivering and scared that i might try to pry yet another crisp $20 from it’s smooth leather grasp.
The entire list of purchases included (in meticulous receipt-confirmed order): Beth Orton’s Central Reservation, two hanging chandelier lamps from and one string of 15 chinese-latern style indoor lights, eight new lightbulbs, the new Ancient Melodies of the Future from Built to Spill, three pretty flowers for our living room, three heavy cardstock posters (Yellow Submarine, one for a Hair-style 60’s Be-In, and a funny spoof on drug culture), the sexiest pair of UnionBay cordouroy pants ever to touch my ass, poster-hanging gum, Fleetwood Mac’s Greatest Hits, Alicia Key’s Songs in A Minor, & Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark. Yes, my characteristic $50+ on compact disc purchases is present in full force, but otherwise i actually managed to make some house-relevant purchases (a cam shot of me half-naked wearing the new pants sitting under my lantern lights will be forthcoming whenever i get my internet connection up)(and do situps for three months).
All i have left to buy is a dishrack, and then i think i’ll let my wallet go into hiding (oh, except for the umpteen new cds coming out this month and my impending trips out of the city. And, coincidence of all coincidences, my full-time job ends one day before my birthday. Damn me and my addictions to pop culture and sale-priced merchandise).