Ugh. I drive myself bonkers, sometimes!! And, I totally have my mom to blame for this (geez, what luck. I get her weird quirks, but not her long legs. Oh, the unfairness of it all...).
See, my mom...she has this thing. She'll buy something new...take for example, her new Pampered Chef spatulas...but, because they're new, she won't use them.
Kinda like a "save it for good" type of thing.
Like what, then?!! When?!
Mac 'N Cheese? Nope, not good enough. Beef Burgandy with Risotto and Asparagus? Yup. That'll do ('cept...ah...she doesn't make that!)! Break out the fancy spatulas! Nevermind that no one will actually see them...much less use them, other than her!
(Pssst...hey, Mom! That's weird.)
And now? It's happened to me. Oh, the horrors!!!
My new jammie pants? Can't wear 'em...('er, couldn't...for a bit).
Ugh!!! What am I waiting for? I mean, what kind of special occasion will it take to break out the new jammies?!
Ah...nevermind. Let's not talk about it (shhhh...my mom reads my blog! That might make her throw up in her mouth a little bit! And!! My MIL reads too now! Oh, I think I'm blushing from just the insinuation...)...okay, I'm kidding.
You see...I had to force myself to wear my new jammies. It coulda had something to do with the to. die. for. packaging they put my new jammies in...I totally woulda been content to just take them out, smell them...and lovingly replace them into their cute little carrier bag (with a ribbon!!).
Yeah...but I'm bigger than that! So, I shoved my neuroses aside,
It was a do or die.
Kinda like that phobia cure they do...
What is that called again? You know, where they lock you in a flight simulator to cure your fear of flying...only to let you out, covered in vomit and crying hysterically?
Yeah...that. What is that?
Anywho...this "syndrome" is a curse. This thinking things are "too good" to use.
For pete's sake...it's ridiculous.
You will be glad to know, however...I have officially broken in all of my jammies. They are now washed and worn and no longer "good".
Which means I can wear them whenever.
Which means I just may never take them off.
'Til next time, my friends...this is your neurotic Mama M. signing off! (Don't forget...it's my mom's fault that I'm this way!)