Aaaah guilt. Something as a Catholic x Church of England-er who lived in sin before getting married to a Jewish man I am well versed in. I have a freaking Phd in it. (well, not really but here’s a fun fact – I did study religion at university for two semesters. guiltily)
What religion doesn’t tell you about guilt is that some of the best things you’ll ever do will feel really amazingly good, and then you’ll feel a bit rubbish about them because you’re meant to. This is precisely the reason why I needed to write this post, because I have to confess, and everyone knows once you confess you are absolved of all sin (refer to previously mentioned inherent Catholicism even if it’s not adequately adopted – let’s not talk about the remorseful part for now.)
Soooooooooo, I have a confession to make.
Forgive me, oh for I have sinned.
There is something beautiful online I have been eyeing for some time now. In stolen moments I glance at it, admiring its form, fantasising about the deliciousness of holding it in my hands. Every time I think about it, it brings me so much pleasure imagining how it would feel. Sometimes warm, always hard and smooth.
My love, today when I admired you, you were 50% off – so I told you to come on over.
The guilty pleasure:
I bought the puffin and the duck plates. They’re everything he will hate in a salad plate – everything he hates in my taste – whimsical, old fashioned, mismatched. But they were 50% off, and I figure at under $40 including shipping I am entitled to one pretty thing in my life.
Oh the beautifully arranged side salads I will serve on you my darlings. I may even lick you clean a few times – just don’t tell the H.
I thought they’d be pretty either mismatched with other whimsical patterned things, or as featured entree plates served atop the plain modern ones I know we’re going to end up compromising with.
I refuse to feel guilty about something this beautiful. REFUSE!
Oh I’m so going to hell. Can I take them with me?