I could tell you that I bounded down the stairs in little more than a satin pyjama set to greet the handsome postman, sign off on the package, and bounce back upstairs where I ripped layers of tissue with such vigor and fervor I nearly gave myself a paper cut.
In actuality, however, it was too cold for my satin play shorts; sweatpants just made more sense. I may have raced down the steps to check for my package (okay, I did) and stole back into my room, pausing only to get the heavy-duty kitchen shears to slice open the packing tape. No tissue paper was a-flyin’ as I sat cross-legged on my bed; even as a little girl I carefully unwrapped my presents as to not tear or crinkle a thing.
Thus began the ritualistic un-boxing of my new Filofax:
If I were a kitten I’d purr. Isn’t she a beauty? Lush, textured leather, soft to the touch and flexible at your writing whims.
A 1 a.m. epiphany had me at the realization that a Filofax was what I needed for this fresh start I craved. This girl—this small (-ish) town girl with big city dreams—deserved an upgrade! Days before I deliberated over the Personal-sized Chameleon in black; at a 60% discount it was nearly impossible, if not downright foolish, to ignore. This girl, this karmic retribution and chakras believing girl, took it as a sign that it was meant to be.
Hours later I was then perched at the edge of my chair in a cold sweat. I get turned on by the idea of housing all of my creativity and organizing my life in one place. Add to cart. No more hesitation; a week was enough deliberation. The Chameleon wasn’t even in my possession and already my organizational urges reached new heights. I thought in Martha Stewart Avery labels and German pens, I dreamt in (literally) strategic inserts and lavender-lined papers.
You can only imagine the organizing spree I embarked upon afterwards…
. . .