A couple of weeks ago, just after starting my no-shopping challenge, I went into town with some friends. It’s Fringe festival time in Adelaide and the city is full of funky markets and cool hippie buying opportunities. I could have bought ten things.
There was a beautiful scarf for $20 (which I totally didn’t need but it was pretty) and some cute coasters that would have gone well in my house. (Seriously, since when do I buy coasters??) There were little earrings with fragments of classic books pasted inside (I mean who doesn’t want quotes from To Kill a Mockingbird on their ears?) and second hand hippie clothes that I could surely pull off wearing (at least once a year at fringe time when all the weirdos come out.)
Every time I saw something I felt something familiar. Maybe it’s not normal, but it’s familiar to me. It’s a mild anxiety. It has an undertone of ‘I want. I want I want,’ and an anxious overtone of ‘I don’t know if I should spend the money. Do I really need it?’ BUT ‘I want. I want. I want.’
The familiar feeling was there. But there was no wrestling with it, because I already knew the answer. It didn’t matter if it was a one-of-a-kind-exotic-bargain; I wasn’t buying it. And it was actually nice. The decision was made.
sarsrose 