I have a secret daydream of living in a little house with a vast, verdant garden in an utterly nonexistent, romanticized land and era where my days spend my days poring over novels, walking through slightly-wild rosebushes, and drinking tea by an abandoned fountain in the late afternoon (and also probably eating cake and strawberries, because why not).
This ridiculous, saccharine fantasy recently enveloped me while I was–of all places–lost in the middle of countless racks of color-coded clothes at the Goodwill Store. And why?
Because, friends, I found the dress of my dreams: or maybe I should say that it found me?
(No, I definitely found it: let’s not make this weirder than it already is.)
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