Protective plans

Today I bought a pillow.
I returned a CC cream, a lipstick, and a makeup primer.
Primers are a scam.
I found a new perfume that reminds me of an old perfume.
I showered.
I ran out of hair gel.
I tried on a pair of flowy navy pants. I didn’t buy them.
Almost bought a straw bag.
I love jewelry with stars.
And pants and shirts and sweaters with stars.
I contemplated the jumpsuit.
I wasn’t in the mood.
I’m excited to sleep on my new pillow.
I returned Tencel sheets because the white sateen King set I’d purchased were missing a pillow case.
I had a new set shipped to my house.
I stayed in a house in LA a few summers ago.
In the middle of the night, I turned my phone into a flashlight and needed to crawl to the foot of the bed and turn the fitted sheet inside out to see who made them. 100% Lyocell Tencell. I wrote it down.
I don’t understand why I didn’t wait for morning to look at the sheet tag.
They’re like sleeping on a silken crisp breathable flowy bed made up in a Relais & Châteaux hotel. Like floating.
I watched The Talented Mr. Ripley, saved on my DVR.
I like disturbing movies and series because they’re a total escape. I loved seeing that the movie was an adaptation of a book written by Patricia Highsmith. I should read the book.
I love the show The Voice. I cry a lot. I watched last night.
I need to go to bed tonight because I have to lead 4 meetings tomorrow, leaving at 7am.
I wasn’t productive tonight and sucked at responding to text messages from friends.
Sometimes I just need to disconnect. Which I need to do now.



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