Vintage Alpaca Cardigan │ My Weakness

Therapist: "We've talked about this before."

Heather: "I know. But, I just couldn't help myself. There it was."

Therapist: "Again, we went through this, Heather. No more cardigans for you."

Me: "I know, but ..."

Therapist: "You know how these get you bent out of shape, you end up keeping every one, and this latest one," he looks at his notepad and shakes his head, "This one is Alpaca. This is the absolute worst. The most addictive kind. I thought you had gotten through this? I though you had this beat."

Heather: "But, the color! And the texture. Oh my gosh. The texture. You don't understand."

Therapist: "But I do. You've only told me a thousand times," his eyes widening in exasperation. "I -"

Heather: "And this one," she interrupts, not waiting for him to finish, "this one, was for a store HERE in Sacramento, about fifty years ago." A tear rolls down her cheek. "I had to rescue it. I just had to. You see the predicament I was in."

Therapist: He looked at her over his glasses. "You weren't suppose to go back into a thrift store."

Heather nods, aware how devastating the situation really is, then proceeds to calculates her next thrifting trip.

This is how the convos go in my head at the thrift store.

No joke.

Okay. Perhaps this is a bit dramatic.

But it's close.

I've said this before, "Hello, my name is Heather. And I'm addicted to men's vintage cardigans."

This is another amazing one.

And it's available right here.
-H

Appropriate musical quote, that I can equate to this cardigan and other things in my life:
 "Don't you ever say, I just walked away, I will always want you ..."
Wrecking Ball, M. Cyrus