The soundtrack for this is here. You can thank me later ;-)
I like when things work. If there’s a mini leak to the sink (like the one most people wouldn’t care less), I can’t sleep until it’s fixed.
So… yesterday, the washing machine “decided” to make a noise and not drain the water properly… after 4 cycles, it was still full of detergent. And that made my day to go off the rails, I ate bad food, I didn’t work out, I just couldn’t function.
We had told a couple of friends we’d go to Eataly with them so off I went but my mind was inside the washing machine, trying to figure it out, watching fix-it-yourself YouTube videos… so just you have an idea, I sent emails to the building property manager and the landlady while sipping an aperol spritz. My Italian ancestors were probably revolving in their graves… perhaps that’s why they denied my citizenship request.
Anyhoo - back home and 2 cycles later the stupid machine was still pretty much blocked. And I was back to the YT videos and hating everything. As it turns out, there’s a little drawer in these front-load machine that catches things and my son has the habit of collecting rocks and put them in his pockets - I thought one of this collectible items were in the drain blocking the drain… Leo played along and opened the thing at 10PM.
The culprit: a sock. One foot of my gym sock (minuscule, size 5 or 33 if your brain works that way) got into the drain and it was blocking the washing machine.
A sock.
A teeny tiny sock had the power to basically ruin my day. And it did.
There might be a lesson here that I have yet to learn.
My new addictions are clip-on earrings and clutches. I can live all my life in basic jeans and good cotton t-shirt (cashmere in the Winter though).
This is actually a good style exercise…. when do I feel uncomfortable? I definitely feel uncomfortable when I’m overdressed. When I’m overdressed I immediately try to compensate and it immediately makes me restless. I believe it has to do with hating being the center of attention. I remember when I turned 15, my mom gave me a huge party and somebody asked me about my “entrance”… what? No entrance. I remember just getting there and blending in… and maybe that’s why the “it bag” and the logo and all has been bothering me. The idea that everybody looks at it.
That remains to be seen…
Going a little further, in a sort of extreme futurology exercise, maybe that’s why I never saw myself as a bride, the idea of 200 pairs of eyes focused on me bugs me beyond belief. So, as my son says, no, thank you.
I still pretty much like my bags because it’s more like a symbol of my independence to me and I love having it. And by having it I mean exactly that. For me, for my eyes, my pride. But I left the idea of an “it bag” most of the time. Sign me up hidden-gems, Becky Malinsky (she writes a newsletter here - go find her) style bags anytime.
Abso-effing-lutely not homemade, please. Yikes. Deal breaker.
I need a little sparkle.
In 10 days I’ll be by the Muskoka lake.
Bye, C xox