Like Water Through My Hands

Sometimes I worry that I spend too much money. But tonight I came home from East Lansing with three free bags of clothes (and one not-free bag of H&M spring dresses and their necessary accouterments) and dried eel sauce in my hair, so I figure I must be doing something right. And I can't feel bad about buying things for birthdays and bridal showers and such...or about flying to DC and classin' it up with Julie and Kat at the symphony and other, fun, first-and-only-real-vacation-of-the-year activities. I just need to remember to keep things in perspective, and also not to get in the habit of letting whole paychecks zoom from my bank account out into the abyss.

(This paragraph's content is entierely independent of the former, and subtitled "I Like Hyphens")
It never really feels like vacation until you wake up without an alarm on that third day - the decidedly non-weekend morning when you're still in bed nine hours after you fell asleep, and you're preparing to roll over into your perfectly-sculpted pillows and perfectly-warmed comforter for another hour of crazy morning-light dreams (what does putting dead birds in the garbage disposal mean?). Tomorrow morning will be my third-day wake up. I can't wait.