Covetousness

I've always been a dreamer. From the time I was 10 I'd flip through the Service Merchandise catalog and fantasize about all the beautiful things I'd surround myself with once I had my own place. I picked out dishes, furniture, jewelry, and even vacuums. An odd selection for a kid, I know, but it's me. Always concerned with being prepared for the future. I think it's a sickness.

Then I got my first job at 17 as a hostess at Shari's Restaurant. It was awesome. A few months later I was the graveyard girl, waiting on drunk guys 3-4 times my size and forming crushes on half the late night police force. Did I spend my hard earned money at the mall like my friends? Buying baubles and sassy footwear and clothes and sweet treats? Surely not. It wasn't *practical* enough. I puchased 8 place settings of dishes (which I still use), silverware, a hand mixer, bedding, towels, and garbage cans. Half of my dresser was dedicated to storage of these accumulations. Everything revolved around prepping for my first apartment. Which was really nice actually - once that apartment came and I didn't have to scavenge for housewares like all my broke friends in their fashionable footwear.

I'm up to those old shenanigans again. Dreaming and longing and planning for the not-so-distant future when I can once again have my own washer and dryer (praise be!!!). Do you think these would fit in my dresser?

Oh, my lovelies. How I ache for the day when we can co-exist in a healthy symbiotic relationship of cleanliness. When you can bless me with your talents and provide my child and I with appropriately dirt-free apparel. When I could throw a load in at night, dry it in the morning, and have clothes ready when I need them. No more waiting 4 days for the washer to be available and having to forfeit it before the job is done. No more 5 loads in one day out of desperation (need perhaps, but not desperation). Oh, the luxury!!

Until then: