april showers bring impulse buying

I can totally justify to myself the purchase of these little dandies:



they're perfect, i know.




1. I found them for almost half off the original price, with free overnight shipping. It's like this website really cares about me and doesn't want me to catch my death from soggy, cold, feet. New BFFS? New BFFS.

2.  I actually discovered these gems in January, aka OVER two months ago and have restrained and bargained with myself about buying them. Thus, I've earned this simple pleasure.

3. If we continue at the current rate, this April is going to be full of rain showers. I need to arm myself accordingly. With precious boots.

4. I'm obsessed with Sperry. It's sick. I have an illness. These boots were my fix. There is no known cure.



April, you can throw all the showers you've got at me, I've got the proper footwear and I can now take on the world.


Xo Sara

oh, happy day.

Mannnnn, fuck this day already. 

I'm having a rough go of it today, thanks Universe. Just, thanks. 
I woke up this morning at 7:01. 32 minutes after my alarm was responsible for waking me up. Awesome. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, since I don't really have to leave my house until 7:35, but not this morning. This morning I had to take a shower. It was honestly a necessity. I put some fucking hair repair gunk in my hair last night to try to fix some of the damage I have no idea how I'm even causing on my hair, and there was simply no avoiding the reality that I needed a shower. 

So I hustle through my routine and finding something, anything, to wear, and I arrive at work, with the help of every red light possible, five minutes late. I despise being late. I prefer to err on the side of early and I cannot stand when other people aren't punctual, so I feel that I should hold myself to the same standards. Whatever, I was late.  My bad for not waking up to my alarm. 

I didn't really have time to scavenge my house that I haven't slept at for two weeks to see if there was any salvagable food, so I ended up eating what I managed to grab for lunch on my dash out the door upon arriving to work. I have to have breakfast, I just have to, or I'm a danger to myself and others. 

I re-heated the last of yesterday's fetid coffee in the pot because NO ONE else seems to know how to operate the coffee machine, but everyone likes to drink it. The result was significantly less than a cup. Also, awesome. 

After a morning of pushing paper as fast I as possibly can and putting out fires from other people not managing to do their jobs whatsoever, I overhear an ignorant co-worker making generalizing statements about something that I myself practice. It's really worth not getting into an all-out debate, or really engaging this person in any type of conversation, so I basically ignore him after making it known in one sentence that I completely disagree and don't appreciate his feeble-minded and non-insighful opinion. 

Several hours later it is lunch and not only am I desperate to leave the office, I have no viable food options, so I scamper to my car for an hour respite from that bullshit-laden office of stress and bad vibes. 

I pull into an unnamed fast-food restaurant and order, learning when I arrive at the payment window that the $4.63 debit has been declined on my card. I quickly attempt to dig around in my purse, pretending I had absolutely no inclination this would happen. I don't think I fooled the cashier. I'm holding up the line. I"m freaking out. At one point I'm actually digging through my sticky-ass cup holders to try to make the amount in change. How the FUCK do they get so sticky? I'm serious. Maybe it's just my vehicle? This merciful fast food angel from heaven finally just says "Just give me whatever you have in your hand and we'll call it even." I'm wearing a brand new $250 North Face jacket and I can't pay for a frozen cheeseburger? I am a failture. I feel like an honest-to-god bum on the street begging for change. I have successfully pissed off everyone within a 25 yard radius of my person. 

As I pull away from the drive-thru, I realize I barely have half of a tank of gas and I don't get paid for eight more days.  EIGHT MORE DAYS. I instantly wonder how I will feed myself. I wonder how I will find a way to drown my realizations of wasted potential with ample amounts of booze. I wonder how I"m going to fucking get to and from this job that makes me want to kick kittens. 


It's now one in the afternoon. This day is just barely half way done. I really need some good news.