Thursday, August 5, 2010

Lonely Hearts Club(house)

Not 15 minutes ago, I came to the realization that, if I were to finally get my very own house, I could potentially be in a lot of trouble. Last night at about 10PM, me and my man were supremely bored, and so we thought it would be a good idea to go for a walk and get some ice cream. Well, I thought it would be a good idea. Anyhow, on the way there and back, we met a neighborhood kitty whom we were not familiar with, so we stopped to get better acquainted. Now, this cat seemed rather lonely and a little bit boney, so we were quite hesitant to leave it be and go on our way. Even more so when we realized that the little guy had no collar. Had it not been for the fact that my man is extremely allergic to cats, I'm pretty sure we would've strongly considered taking him home, at least for the night or until we could find out if it had it's own home or not.

Then today, when my search for a copy of The Unbearable Lightness of Being at my local independent bookstore fell short, I bought a book that wasn't it the best shape and had sun damage. I'm usually quite picky about the condition of the books I buy, both before the purchase and after, as I prefer to have them look unread for the span of their lives on my bookshelf. But this book, a copy of A Suitable Boy, looked much too forlorn for me to pass it by, especially as I have been wanting to read it for a number of years. Sure, it'll have to wait it's turn to be read, as I have a growing stack of unopened books on my floor, but at least it has a warm home, and shelter from the yellowing sun.

I've also done the same thing with clothing. In a couple of my favorite Etsy shops, if I notice that something has been listed for eons and hasn't yet been snatched up, I'll feel sorry for it and buy it myself. True, these pieces had previously sparked my interest and have become favorites of mine since they arrived in my mailbox, but if they hadn't have looked like sad strays in those shops, who knows when/if they would've been welcomed into my tiny cramped one-bedroom apartment. I fear that if I actually had a place with storage space, that I wouldn't hesitate to bring home whatever lonely thing I happened upon. But oh, how I long for a bungalow...

(Photo is the Sleeve Scarf from Cubist Literature's Winter 2009-10 collection)

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