In Which Our Protagonist Cannot Think of an Original Title

This afternoon, I went to the Salvation Army with dear Hannahbeth, who just yesterday told me of the treasures in store. On our way back to Granger, we stopped at Michiana Used so I could stock up on games for my newly rediscovered Super Nintendo. Upon arriving at my house, dear Meredith announced that we were going to Goodwill, where I purchased a couple ties and an antique typewriter. Then after dinner, my mother and I went to Target, where more things were purchased.

After all this, I took two large boxes filled with clothes to the Goodwill drop box.


I sometimes hate feeling like such a consumer. I spend and waste so much. I really don't want it to be that way.
I was thinking earlier about moving to Chicago, and how I would have to cut down on my earthly possessions to make moving more streamlined--especially if I'm not going to spend more than a couple years at a time in one residence.
And then again, it's just about the spending. I spend so much, and I don't like it. Yet here I am, planning my next vinyl purchases.
Bah.

At Hannahbeth's house, they have several small magnets with words on them. She told me to write a poem (please note: the poems already on the fridge are things like 'Do you want to scream music' and 'put them pants on')
So I wrote a poem.