Saw them, wanted them, couldn't afford them, tried to forget them, NEEDED them, purchased them, regretted them, received them, wore them, loved them, and wore them some more.
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Living on my own in my parents' house is about to come to an end. The property was sold an hour ago to the mother of a friend of mine. I've yet to catch my dad in a good enough mood to tell him that I will not be moving to the new house. And all of the physical and intangible goods in the universe are apparently insufficient to bribe my mother into telling him for me. "This is your battle", she says.
A battle, indeed. A perfect excuse to wear my combats.
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