The postman just rang.
I thought it would be my package from Amazon, which was what I was starting to write about.
But no, it was something for ISHI. That makes me feel just a little bit less guilty.
I guess it’s not an addiction.
I can control it, but I choose not to.
(I’m not writing about Pesach yet–I KNOW! It’s called selective avoidance. If I pretend it’s not there, then maybe I can control my panic.
I said MAYBE.)
I’m primed for purchase. What a great name. Whoever thought of that was brilliant, as in demonically. Cue the laugh.
I do not buy everything on my wish list by any means. But I know I’m being silly. As I try to weed out books from my house (note to self–move all the boxes of weeds out of upstairs hallway before the kids come for that P time), I keep buying more.
But is this really wrong? After all, I’m reading them!
Well, that’s the problem. I’m reading them but a little too slowly perhaps to justify my immediate purchase of all those books.
Wait. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I don’t get a book every day, nor even once a week. Here’s a record of what I’ve ordered for the last 6 months:
Still to come:
Mourning Under Glass: Reflections on a Son’s Murder
The Brain in Love: 12 Lessons to Enhance Your Love Life I’m enjoying this one a lot. I think I will be writing about this in the future.
Start-up Nation: The Story of Israel’s Economic Miracle I had to have it, even if it will take a while to read it.
Oh it’s too easy, isn’t it?
And it doesn’t include household stuff, like my new
This I bought to replace my mother’s missing Bloomingdale bags. They were black. This is not.
And this doesn’t include a lot of gifts, which, of course, are a different animal of a different stripe.
I can always justify gifts without any guilt.
So why can’t I justify giving myself things without the guilt?