I need a fix cause I'm going down

I don't know who I was kidding. I need this journal. As much as I love my pens and will always have a blank book and pen at my finger tips, the truth is that I'm in front of a computer more than anywhere else and typing just moves more quickly.

The winter is pushing itself through the Autumn membrane that surround Southern Indiana right now. Seeping in in the mornings and evenings, but being neutralized during midday. Makes clothing choices multitudinous in its layers. But winter will be here soon. Perhaps in about ten days.

I've not grown accustomed to the winters this side of the Smokey Mountains. They're so unforgiving. So eager to punish. My heart is pulling me to the south with voracity, and at an even greater pace since my Michael is now in South Carolina.

But time is right now and here is where I find myself. Winter in Bloomington (at first I wrote "Loomington").

So I ought to buy myself a new coat, adn some new boots. Maybe not a new coat, necessarily. It might be enough to just get the ole red one dry-cleaned. But definitely new boots. Here's the question, though:

should I justify spending over $200 on a pair of Camper boots because they are the damn hottest boots on the friggin market?

My boyfriend advises against it. Who made him the pro? Just because he attended a seminar on financial planning and investing. He's already starting to act like a husband.

For spring break I'm going to go to Miami for a bachelorette party for my friend Rosemary. She and I backpacked across Europe together. Over five years ago.

Speaking of that time, my hair is now as long as it was then. To my shoulders. My bangs are longish and swept to one side and I've stopped coloring my hair, too, so the Holden Caufield white-spot on the back of my head is glowing.

I'll be back.