Burnt popcorn

I want to blog. Really, I do. I just don't know what's worth blogging about anymore.

Is anyone really interested in hearing about the day's banalities? I don't have a problem reading about other people's banalities. I just read about how one friend is going to ask her midwife to strip her membranes, while another shared the story of a heart-to-heart while eating Kashi's Heart-to-Heart oatmeal. But I'm not so sure you and I share the same tolerance for banality. Do you care that I just burnt popcorn while writing this post?

I get that this is the point of blogging, the sharing of the day-to-day banalities, that is. And I guess I could blog about how I bought a brand new couch and coffee table the other day, my first truly grown-up purchase, considering that the last "grown-up" item I bought for myself was the $125 Tiffany's mesh ring, which, next to the sterling silver letter opener, is the cheapest item you can buy at Tiffany's, which really isn't all that exciting of an event given that I'm almost 30.

Were I 23 and fresh out of college and buying new furniture -- now that -- that would be exciting. Because you're 23! And buying furniture! That's not from Ikea! Or Target! (It's from Suburban. How very -- suburban.) Buying furniture at 23 is so unexpected! And buying furniture at 29 is so very expected.

Wait for it, folks. I'm sure there's something more interesting around the corner.

(Off to Cincinnati for the New Year. Perhaps something interesting will pop up between by then.)