PG&E Can Suck It, and More About Fall

Ok, so I am seriously jonesing for some new clothes. Seriously. I have the shakes. I'm half expecting Matt to take me to a Super 8 where I'll find assorted family and friends who'll give me the whole "We love you, but we're not going to love you to death" routine (oooo....Intervention reference--tune in on Friday's bitches! I don't want to be the only one!). Every morning I get up and almost cry at the clothes that are in my closet. I. Have. Nothing. To. Wear. Nothing. My clothes are hideous, the jeans I thought I loved give me some degree of muffin top (even though I seem to be the only one noticing this muffin top), my sweaters have balls on them. I have one semi-ok outfit going on, but you can't wear a corduroy pencil skirt and leopard print heels everyday.

So, I'm sure you're saying, "Well, shut it and go buy some new clothes." But here's the thing. I got no cash. Why? PG&E took it all. For some reason, my husband forgot to pay the electric bill last month or something, and then our house is literally falling apart at the seams, so we ended up with a $731 electric bill this month. For some people this may be normal, but well, it breaks the ole budget for us. Evidently we have to make some repairs on some things in our house so that we're not using so much power. So the rest of my discretionary income has gone for CFL bulbs and weather stripping and little trolls that hop out of the wall and remind my 3 year old to "TURN OFF THAT FREAKING LIGHT!!!" Plus, said 3 year old has a birthday coming up next weekend, so there goes the rest of Morgan's clothes fund. Here's the thing I don't understand: shouldn't I be getting the presents anyway? Sam literally did nothing 4 years ago this coming Saturday, but I managed to give birth to him without pain medication and be nice to all the people who showed up at my house to wish him well AND finish reading and analyzing The Wasteland for class the next week. Shouldn't I get a prize? Like a majestic purple cashmere hoodie from J. Crew? But I digress. (On that note, while I'm doling out the grouchiness, T.S. Eliot can also suck it. He knows why.)

But a girl can dream. I have already decided what I would buy, were I to have scads of discretionary income at my fingertips.

I love this jacket. Do you know what I would do for this jacket? Lots of things. Lots of bad, bad things. Imagine how cute this jacket would be with a brightly colored tee and creased denim? Love it, love it.

I don't need wool trousers. My job and life station are such that I can wear jeans everyday, and don't really need to do anything else. But these just say "Fall" to me. And I want them. Bad.

I want this dress with a turtleneck, dark green tights and boots. I want to wear it with grey sweater tights and my red peep toe pumps with the cone heel. I want to wear it with a big graphic necklace and a purple turtleneck. I want it. I love it.

You know, I thought this would help, but it is in fact making things worse. I'm thisclose to going to find the credit card that we only use for bonafide emergencies (my husband reminds me that this is for food and stuff, not for dresses) and getting the dress. At least. And maybe the jacket.... I'm rethinking my stance on credit cards in general (I have none, and have always strived to keep it that way).

All work and no clothes makes Morg a dull girl.