There’s a part of my soul that’s really and completely addicted to shopping. I wish I could find it, pick it off, squish it underneath a dictionary or a flip flop, and suck it up with the vacuum. The part of my soul right next to that shopping bit is a bargain finder. It buys happy yellow dresses for $3.74 and such cute shoes for $8.49 and it’s significantly stronger than the shopping addict. It’s a really good thing those soul pieces are neighbors, for obvious reasons.
Then there’s this other part of my soul that’s a complete minimalist. It’s tucked way WAY far back inbetween the part that wants curly hair and the part that has a strong attraction to burlap. It makes me want to live on an old dusty farm, to learn to grow my own food and sew my own clothes. To give up blogging and start a journal. It makes me want to abandon all life’s extras and be simple. Living simply sounds so nice, doesn’t it?
Maybe it’s just the midwesterner in me feeling homesick. Maybe it’s the “there’s always something better” voice in disguise. It could be the hatred for computers and phones and the forgotten love for pen and paper. But if I really had to guess what it is that makes me want to live simply, I’d say it’s the part of me that knows what it’s talking about.