Look, people, at this link.
What's even worse is how close I live to IKEA. Which means I can go whenever I want, all the time, several times a day if I choose.
And it's raining and frigid today (again) and I'm low on endorphins and I have to sew a commissioned work for a magazine (other people's, not mine) and I'd rather indulge in retail therapy because I've already maxed out my swimming quota for the week. And it's not even the weekend yet and the children have (uncharacteristically) confirmed their 2014 Halloween costumes and they involve lots of sheer fabrics ("but must be stretchy and cannot be itchy, Mom!") and upholstery fabrics that we hope don't look like those beat-up apricot/pink/green floral sofas with "Free!" signs on them, sitting out in people's yards and I have no sewing mojo and those same children had the audacity to grow lankier over the summer so that their winter jackets and fall coats mysteriously now have only three-quarter sleeves and look suspiciously cropped at the midriff and I have to go to Target to buy new coats because they need them because it's raining and frigid.
This, my friends, is what a vicious cycle looks like in Stay-At-Home-Mom-Land.
It is not one of my better days. See? No photos. Only whining.
Do you have days like this? When the weather defeats you? And you want to take a gigantic flamethrower to the sky to vaporize all the clouds to give the sun the ghost of a chance to peek out and resurrect your languid soul? And did I tell you that two days ago, I was viciously assaulted by not one, but two caterpillars while cleaning vegetables for lunch?
Wait! No. I must not give up. I must look on the bright side. It isn't snowing. The internet is working. The cars aren't dinged to death by hailstorms. The post office hasn't raised its international shipping costs again. There are no solicitors at my door asking if they can give me a free roof estimate. We do not have a mice infestation (only bloody caterpillars). Nobody has released new scientific evidence that Nutella causes the plague. There are no lice in my children's hair.
And IKEA has launched its Paper Shop.
I suppose I could shout for joy.
Or just go shopping. Sewing (and ecstatic utterances) can wait.
















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