July 22, 2014

When The Dog Bites

♫ I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so bad. 

Or, more likely, I simply buy some new favorite things and then I don’t feel so bad. Does anyone else go on a binge when they are down? I know it’s not a healthy, long-term solution, yet I do feel a little lift. Husband working late again? A new pair of Kate Spade pumps and all is better. Daughter going through a biting phase? The cute new throw pillow for the family room couch will mend far better than a band-aid.

I have been peeved for a little over a month now and I’m not sure that my bank account can weather the consequences. I realize that it is a completely unhealthy way to self-soothe. If I were an infant I would be sucking on a pacifier, but alas I am a 30 something with a full-time job. Perhaps boots are my pacifier.

If I were to see a psychologist I am sure he would tell me to speak my feeling instead of spending them. This could be decent advice, if I did not desire to both keep my marriage and update my wardrobe. Speaking your feelings has merit. I do try to talk through things, though there are times when things are either a little petty (and you know full well), or you have already talked though them, you’re still in a funk, and you just need to dilute that last lingering animosity. Enter Bloomingdales. Retail therapy is both real and amazing. My personal go-to is the Kiehls counter or the shoe department. If Casey has really gotten me ticked I may hit up both.

I once spent an entire lunch break on a Friday signing my new paycheck over to Nordstroms. My boss made me up-the-wall angry and my only outlet that would end in a scenario where I was still employed was the half annual sale. I still wear the shoes I got that day, and laugh at the day from hell.

So you may be questioning now what I bought this week while on a therapy binge. Well, this is really pathetic. A new pair of pajamas for Anna and a new cookbook for myself. Yeah, that will teach them! I’ll make gourmet cookies for my snugly daughter. They’ll never know what hit ‘em.

{And Scene}

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