I blame it on insomnia, really.
So it’s 2 am. Dean and Daniel, my precious two D’s, are fast asleep and there I was, lying in bed fingers tapping each other silently on my tummy. I knew I shouldn’t have taken that nap in the evening, or not, I too would be joining the snoring bandwagon (Daniel is President Snore in our little family).
I see my laptop charging on the table. Oh, why not… check out some blogs or read the news or something. Unwrapped myself from the duvet, got up and brought my laptop to the living room. Got myself a hot drink, and opened the cover of my laptop, the little apple now lit brightly facing the wall. Ok news website, news website…
Suddenly I found my fingers typing themselves… “net…a…porter….”
Oh no… I could feel myself getting giddy inside. I’m obviously an avid supporter of the Asian fashion scene (hello built a career out of that!), but like any honest girl out there, Net-a-porter makes me happy. I haven’t rewarded myself for so long, so I thought ok fine so since you gave birth and pushed a human being out of you and all, maybe you should get yourself something. How convenient was it that my credit card was just right there on the living room table.
I browsed for so long before adding only crucial items into my cart. Tried not to convert the US dollars into Malaysian ringgit, filled in my details at Checkout, click Place Order with eyes squinted shut (somehow with NAP, that’s possible). Heart pumping at the thought of my bank account depleting, but then again, I know I don’t do this often.
Oh the thrill of online shopping.
Sometimes it takes shopping at other websites (if not at FV, it has to be NAP level only, please) for me to appreciate what I’ve built with FashionValet. There’s just something special about shopping online. Like you’re being taken to a special VIP room and there’s a personal service of everything being laid out for you to just pick and choose. And once you click Place Order, it’s just that exciting feeling when you think Is it here yet? everytime someone rings your doorbell. And then the guy in uniform comes and hands you presents like it’s your birthday. Presents that you paid for yourself, of course, but whatevs, you pushed a human being out of you! Totally deserve presents.
(Why do I have a feeling I’m going to use that excuse for everything, even when Daniel turns 32?)