Something like half of the fabric in the store that was theoretically suitable for adult clothing -- not upholstery, not SpongeBob pajamas -- had sequins on it. In case no one had noticed, part of the reason I am short on clothing is that I hate sequins. I don't like how they feel on clothes, and I am perpetually convinced that they will fall off and make the garment look grungy and tacky, and that I don't have the energy to re-sew a sequin or two every time I go to get dressed.
If I didn't like clothing, none of this would be an issue, because I could just wear any old thing, but I do like clothing, and so I am sad when the situation is so sequined and dire.
But my birthday is coming, so even if that doesn't involve clothes as presents, it has to be a good thing, right? Of course right. Because books make better presents anyway. And chocolate. And books.
I am not the sort of person who will mope around wondering if anyone will remember her birthday. No! I will tell you! July 26 is my birthday! This will not be the last you hear of it! My family is very good at birthdays. We're even good at other people's birthdays, when they let us be.