Tonight G and I went to Target and bought pretty new silverware and drinking glasses to replace our nasty old ones. I can't remember how old the glasses were, but some of the forks and spoons were left over from the set P and I got for our wedding in 1996, and their plastic parts were starting to chip away from their metal parts. But no more -- now we'll be eating in style!
P has been asking me to do this for a long time, but I've been putting off the purchase because it was "too expensive," which of course it really wasn't. Sometimes I don't understand my own attitude toward money at all. I'll limp along for months -- even years -- with things that are broken or don't work properly, all because I'm afraid to spend the money on new ones. (For example, my purse has a broken strap and I own only two pairs of black socks without holes, both of which I hate because they slip and bunch up when I wear them ... and let's not forget the Fridge O'Doom.) But at the same time, I'll happily go into Borders and buy loads of books and DVDs and coffee drinks I don't need. Where are my priorities? I wouldn't let G walk around in socks that make her uncomfortable; why do I do it to myself? It must be some sort of bizarre penance, like a modern version of the hair shirt or the pebble in the shoe.