I stabbed myself installing lino tiles in Mea's room. That makes me an idiot. I stuck a band-aid on in instead of going to the emergency room to get stitches because it was still attached. (Mea laughs as I write this, but I don't think it's funny).
But, on the bright side, I found the makeup that both Clinique counters in town swear has been discontinued. Where did I track down this elusive makeup? Ebay? A flea market? An obscure foreign makeup website? Nope. The Clinique website. And what makeup product do I so diligently seek? A special shade of lipstick? A particular eye shadow? Volumizing mascara? Nope. City Stick foundation. I am feeling really boring as I write this... How lame is it to be this excited to buy foundation? (And yes, I do wear it, lots of times, especially at the beginning of a semester-- not so much after mid-term). So I'll have to wear some makeup, right?
Labels: city stick, decorating, injury, not talking about moving
No home improvement project is complete unless someone ends up in the E.R.
And the make-up thing isn't lame at all. I have a particular shade of Clinique lipstick I buy three and four at a time for fear they'll discontinue it.
A few years ago I was gently scolded that it was time to move from the Clinique counter to the Estee Lauder section. Apparently it's some kind of pre-menopausal rite of passage, like cutting your hair shorter or quitting short skirts.