I've become newly obsessed with the idea of trying to be an adult. I'm making "schedules", I'm using kettleballs, i'm preparing to shop at Lululemon, i'm drinking wine, and i even made meals for the week last sunday night. After floundering for months in baggy freelance writer's uniforms and throwing my hair into a dirty bun and covering my boyfriend's apartment in a thin layer of my freelance filth*, im finally ready to man - er lady - up, and for some reason, the $16 i spent on a creamer and a sugar bowl at Anthropologie seem to support this notion that I can actually kick it into high speed.
Now, I'm nowhere near having all my shit together, as I kind of bull-in-a-china-shop-ped a stack of teacups at the store that two better-dressed, better-mannered salespeople had to help me clean up while purchasing said adulthood, but hey! If i buy it, it will come. Like The Secret, just with more needless consumption and well-decorated ceramics.
*(receipts, wrappers, notes, crumpled dollar bills, lip glosses and the occasional strand of wavy hair that comes with moving constantly and changing purses three times a day)