Yesterday I had lunch with my brother and our mutual friend, Amy. Amy and I have developed a post-lunch tradition: thrift shopping. Yesterday’s outing was, naturally, a delight to Word Raccoon.

The silver shoes (pictured below and on my feet today faster than Dorothy’s ruby slippers) were actually snagged on a second trip—because when I got home, Word Raccoon demanded I go back.

Context: Amy and I take turns paying at this thrift shop because it’s trapped in a time warp and only accepts cash or checks. Neither of us carries checks (ew), and remembering cash is a mythical feat, so we alternate footing the bill.

I tried to be modest with my haul since Amy was paying. She rolled her eyes at me the whole time because she said I could buy as much as I wanted. She’s about as sassy as Word Raccoon (which is to say: a lot and I love it). Honestly, with prices that low, I don’t even know why I bothered being frugal.

Since I live near the shop and she doesn’t, I limited my purchases. Still, Amy bought me some truly excellent things, and I TOTALLY appreciated it. But I drew the line at letting Word Raccoon make her pay for the shoes. That creature has no shame.

So I returned later in the day—and I’m so glad I did. Not only did I snag the shoes (AND LOVE THEM), but I also saw something I hadn’t noticed before: a clarinet.

Backstory: My husband used to have two clarinets—one inherited from his aunt, a decent student model, and one he found at auction, a fancy Selmer (I think?). When a student needed one, he gave away the nice one and kept the sentimental one. That sentimental one later died a tragic, moldy death in a damp basement. Cue the sad trombone.

So for years, no clarinet.

I keep an eye out for instruments—once found him a mandolin at a garage sale, and a few less-wise guitar purchases. But until yesterday, no clarinet sightings.

I called him immediately. We video chatted. I still wasn’t sure if I should pull the trigger. I asked him to just come to the store. (Also: I couldn’t buy both the clarinet and Word Raccoon’s shoes. Priorities.)

And yes, okay, I would’ve picked the clarinet over the shoes—but what if I lost the chance at the shoes? Word Raccoon is nothing if not persistent.

Reader, Barry came to the store. The clarinet was a go. When we got home, he cleaned it up and played it. And since it’s almost his birthday, I asked him for a list of clarinet accessories and ordered them. Boom. One surprise gift, courtesy of a shiny shoe mission.

Speaking of: the silver shoes? Still very loud. Still very tacky. I told Word Raccoon secondhand shoes are questionable. She told me I’m questionable. I laughed and bought them anyway. Plus a shiny(!) pink purse.

Charlotte Brontë said: “I would always rather be happy than dignified.” I’ve been dignified. It’s no fun. Also, no one who insists on being dignified is ever truly having fun. (That’s a blog post begging to happen, just not today.)

Oh, and take a look at the haul pic—you’ll see I found a John Green novel for a quarter! I haven’t read it yet, but I remember when it came out. He’s best known for fiction, but I love his nonfiction. I started reading Everything is Tuberculosis last night and wow, the man writes like he talks. I am here for it.

Anyway, I’ve been up and down all night writing poetry, and now I have a coffee date and my hair is… a situation. Gotta run.

Before I go—here’s a glimpse at titles from the poetry cycle I’m working on:

• Comfort Eagle
• Onto You
• Bitch Eating Crackers
• Famous Last Texts
• Weird in the Family
• Use a Boot
• Golden Lasso Not Included
• Barney Fife Does Not Live Here
• Arm and Hummer
• Incoming Outgoing
• Oral Gratification and Other “Phallicies” (On Moving to Nashville)

Yes, I sent that last poem to my husband with the warning: NSFW. Honestly, maybe that should be the title of my newest collection. Or maybe… it should be my title.

Word Raccoon, over and out.