Thrift stores bring joy to my heart; not because I can find bright and trendy clothing for a fraction of the cost, but because I sometimes stumble upon pre-worn 50s-era shoes that are too small for me but FABULOUS and only $5. Oh, what a beautiful morning it was.
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| For mercy's sake, when taking pictures late at night with horrid lighting, please do not use a ghetto camera with a broken flash. Speaking of, why was the maid afraid of the camera? (Holla to my white friend Julie! Also, I hope that the rest of you will come up with your own punchlines and comment them. That would bring joy to my soul.) |
While we're on the topic of how truly great a sport thrifting really is, I went through my phone for the first time in ages today and found simple pleasure in the fact that most of the pictures follow this pattern:
Granny-length skirts with a bold floral print, draped against a background of old, mismatched china? Be still my heart!
Sign me up for retirement. Anything is worth spending two-thirds of the day in oversized sweats and hair tied up in a knot -- even bunyon pain and furniture that smells like cats.
These are a few of my favorite things, and I'm not just saying that. Ask anyone who knows me. Sometimes I offer up the excuse that I just have a classy, sophisticated sense of style. Inside, I know that's a load of codswallop.
Other elderly-aged lifestyle choices that I adore:
- Classical music playing softly in the background as I let the hours slip gently away playing solitaire. In my defense, it was classical guitar music, which makes me super hip, right?
- Using the word "hip" as an adjective.
- Getting so fed up trying to figure out technology in an attempt to make a tab for flowers that I give up and only offer my blog nasty looks for the next half a week. I vote we throw out cellphones and computers and revert back to the good-old Pony Express.