In between waiting for a load of laundry to stop spinning and before I run off to scrub the shower (cause those things don’t magically take care of themselves, apparently) I thought I would discuss a small personality flaw of mine.
I know, it looks like a pile of magazines, but what you’re actually looking at is a compulsive behavior. Growing up it was unicorns, stickers, and such. As an adult it’s been Barbies, Beanie Babies (embarrassing, but true), and crafting supplies which has ranged from patterns to yarn and everything in between. I’ve mostly broken out of this need to have more and more and more of something, but for some reason my current obsession seems to be these lovely glossy periodicals.
This is not all of them, but only the unread ones and this doesn’t even include my digital subscriptions… in my defense, sort of, I no longer have any physical subscriptions, but when I pass by a wall of magazines like this my heart races a little and I might break into a bit of a sweat. It’s almost like I’m gazing on a wall of potential, but we all know that’s not really how it works.
So now I’ve placed myself on a strict moratorium of absolutely no magazines until we get packed up and move to our new place. That’s a month and half. Totally doable, but that means I have to figure out a way to buy groceries without passing this wall of temptation…