FYI: This is not a pretty side of Finny. Brace oneself.
It's no secret, when I'm stressed, I shop.
Some people eat. Some drink. Some pick fights with unsuspecting grocery store patrons.
Not I.
Retail therapy, while not validated by the FDA, has certain qualities that soothe my inner fireball. I'm not sure if it's because shopping lets me entertain my mind with easier tasks than those at hand or because I really like using my penknife to cut open cardboard boxes, but either way, if I'm having a particularly stressful week, you'll sooner or later find me knee-deep in packaging popcorn (or crinkle wrap, or those inflatable plastic cushion thingees, or...)
And, according to the stack of boxes on the stoop of my doorstep and order confirmation emails filling my inbox - this week has been a stinker.
Because, in addition to the nice stack of books you see here, there are also a few pieces of furniture and likely a new digital camera on their way. Oh, and I decided to get us a new mattress last weekend. And despite my #6 resolution to the contrary, I did a bit of shoe shopping. Yes, I'll admit, this is over-the-top, even for me.
And since I'm now feeling a mite guilty for the shopping, I will be doing some less spendy activities this weekend. Including putting a dent in at least one of those books, trimming and shoring up the tomato plants, making cucumber salad (recipe to follow) and marching off to AIDS Walk SF on Sunday.
Funny thing is, after all that "therapeutic" shopping, the one thing this week to calm my frayed ends was this little fella, drinking happily from the feeder:
I'm going to try to remember this next time my mouse starts to wander toward Zappos or one of my other retail nemeses, and instead I'll venture out to my backyard and await the low hum of an incoming hummingbird. If only he were wrapped in crinkle paper, we'd be all set.
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[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]
Look at you commenting, that's fun.
So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.
Sucks, right?
Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.
But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.
Cheers.