It is a far, far better thing to instead go shopping with a dear friend who will offer me impeccable sartorial advice --- such as not to buy a handbag that's chic but too small to fit even my wallet, but on the other hadn to try a longish black skirt that swishes agreeably and isn't dowdy or funereal at all --- than to be a good girl and do the work I brought home for the weekend.

Even though I'll probably pay for it by putting in even longer hours during the week.

My $10 haircut, at one of those $10-for-a-10-minute-snip places, is a little rough around the edges, but it also gives me a slightly frazzled look that I think is appropriate for work. I can't really complain when it's the cheapest haircut I've had since the 1980s, I think.

(I didn't post this at the time it says I did, but I would've if T had let me use the computer. But he muttered something about splitting the treasure among the party and I left him to it.)


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