Silly Story

My list of 'to-do's' today included going to the California Highway Patrol office (don't ask) and finding some black patent pumps for my new job. (I'm still grinning over that last bit of information). Anyways, after treking over to the patrol office, I wandered to Marshalls to see what they might have in stock. I was innocently scanning the aisles of shoes, and soon realized that I wouldn't be leaving with anything. This Marshalls was unlike others, (I spotted a few Dolce & Gabbana sandals and Ferragamo drivers).

Anyways, so right when I was about to leave I spotted a pretty brown color out of the corner of my eye. And I slowly approached the target and realized that I had found the perfect brown handbag I had been searching for for months. I inspected it, pulling back the large gold zipper to see what may lay inside. It was roomy, so chic, could pass for a Marc Jacobs bag, and would match everything that I owned. I was already imagining it with this outfit and those shoes. It had to be mine. I couldn't believe I had found the most perfect bag that I would probably use for the rest of my life so quickly.

And then I saw the price tag. This wasn't any ordinary Marshalls like I mentioned before. It was more comparable to a Nordstrom's than a discount store.

And I started running the numbers in my head and realized that it was five weeks-ish worth of gas. Or all of the "weekend money" we have for an entire month. So I naturally started to wonder how bad public transportation could really be--and, do we really need to ever leave the apartment for four weekends in a row?

Just then, Ryan called to check in with me and I casually mentioned the purse. It didn't go over as well as I had planned. After the phone call, I realized that I could no longer spend money the way I was used to again. I would have to stick to the budget we had created--otherwise I would never be able to own a home one day. Seriously, have you seen how crazy the real estate market is here? But then my mind started to wander again and I questioned how bad living in an apartment for the rest of my life could possibly be if it meant that I could enjoy all of the fabulous handbags and accessories I encountered. At that point, I knew I had stooped low.

And a small tear dropped out of my eye. I kid, I'm joking. I didn't cry over a purse. But I was tad heartbroken.

So I left the store sans purse, sans buyer's remorse, and told myself to never go shopping ever again.


A Wiseman Once Said . . . I need to leave the house with blinders in tow.