maybe the onset of my cold has brought out a fresh spurt of verbal diarrhoea - no, logorrhoea (thank you Gabrielle for reminding me of the existence of that word!). Perhaps it's all that excess mucus. Apologies, I do have a really immature sense of humour sometimes. Oftentimes.
As of these two weeks, I have made some really frightening purchases. They worry me.
A bright red sari
A pair of gold heels
Raw silk in hot pink for a cocktail dress
A gold necklace and ear-rings, with the money my grandmother gave me for my 21st birthday
...
This is not me. I'm not interested in jewellery that's real, I don't wear pink, I detest gold in any form, and a red sari is...well, gaudy.
Buuuuut...the necklace is beautifully inlaid with Sri Lankan gems, the hot pink is shot with purple and is an absolutely gorgeous colour, the red sari is actually a mixture of flame and burnt orange, and my gold shoes are actually not that terribly flashy looking.
Perhaps I am losing my mind and my taste and am slowly turning into a monster, or else I am becoming, oh so irrevocably, an adult.
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