"Everything in my body says not tonight, everything in my body says no"
I don't buy much 'stuff' these days. With the majority of my money going towards rent and back rent that I owe, the only stuff that I buy is stuff that I need.
Yeah, I would look fit in that dress, but I kind of want to have money to eat this week. Although, if I don't eat, I'd probably look a lot better in it.
Then I remember that food is necessary to live, and I want to look hot in the dress, not be buried in it.
So when I received my care package boxes from Momma and Mel last Thursday and Friday, I was really excited to have stuff that I don't necessarily need, but want nonetheless. Mel was awesome and hooked me up with some of my favorite magazines (Vogue, Cosmopolitan and Us Weekly), I got two new pairs of cute pajamas, dvds and six new books that should keep me very busy for the remainder of this summer. I also got a mountain of Kraft mac 'n' cheese (hello Velveeta!), who knows how many packets of gravy, plus many more packets and boxes of cookies and brownies (so much for being healthy; when I have Duncan Hines in my possession, all reason goes out the window).
I was so excited just to have new stuff, to see new stuff to have it all be mine. It was like I had a massive shopping trip at Target and I wasn't even in my small flat in London anymore; I was back in Virginia making dinner with the TV on in the background (or in this case, Bridget since we don't have a TV).
Friday night it was raining outside. I could hear it lightly tap on the window. I was alone in the flat since Helen was working, and I thought that being at home by myself isn't so terrible these days. I think I'm slowly adjusting and getting used to it. It's nice to have the flat to myself every so often, to clean and have everything stay clean for more than an hour. Occasionally I walk around in just my underwear. Why? Because I'm alone and I can. I pee with the door open. I listen to my music loud and sing along even if I can't hit all of the high notes. I dance. Lord do I dance.
It's fun.
With my new boxes full of stuff, this Friday night was especially nice for me. I changed into a pair of my new pajamas. I made mac 'n' cheese, and only mac 'n' cheese. I read my Us Weekly magazine from cover to cover, while listening to my iPod and singing loudly hoping that the neighbors could hear me. After my mac 'n' cheese was ready to eat, I put in the first disc of Weeds Season 3 and watched a couple of episodes back-to-back, hysterically laughing out loud and talking to the screen as if the characters could hear me. I didn't want to watch them all in one go, though. I wanted to save some episodes and slowly savior them all since I wasn't sure when my next box of stuff would be coming. Instead I opened up one of my new books and read deep into every page for hours until it was a little past midnight and my eyelids were slowly falling over my eyes.
I considered it to be one of the best Friday nights I've had in a long time alone. I didn't get dressed for a night out. I didn't spend any money. I didn't drink myself into oblivion. And more importantly, I resisted the peen.
Of course I enjoy going out, partying and getting lost in the London haze. But on this particular Friday night, I had a better time indoors sitting on the settee alone in my new jammies and listening to the rain.