So when I found myself face to window with the enlightened goodness last night, I knew that to go inside was the right thing to do. I have a testimony of the Anthropologie.
It smelled like a dreamland and instantly inspired my more creative senses. I lusted over latte bowls and shower curtains and even made eyes at the darlingest set of dish towels ever known to man! I felt compelled to travel Morocco and India! I wanted to break out oil and canvas on the streets of Paris! I wanted to move my bed to an empty warehouse and decorate it with colorful chachkies and chippy paint!
I didn't dare venture too far into the clothing because, well, you know there's this thing about my awkwardly growing shape these days. But more so, if I dare fall in love with something, I'm not sure I could handle the drama of a potential checkout: either destroy our carefully laid out budget for a small shopping bag of happiness, or cry myself to sleep over what might've been.
And it came to pass that someday in the distant future, I became a millionaire and bought frivolous cardigans to my heart's content.
Until that day, my creative soul admires from a distance the bird lamps, crewel work lampshades and pillows, and the painfully wonderful cardigans. Oh the cardigans...
Be still my heart.