I’m having a fairly torrid love affair with colored ink pens. And it’s been going on for quite a while. Ballpoint, gel, felt-tip, fountain, rollerball, disposable, refillable, personalized, clickable, capped, multi-ink, color-changing, solid, permanent, washable, fine-tip, thick-tip, angled tip (anyone else giggle at the word ‘tip’?), smudge-proof, smudge-able, scented, glitter, metallic, neon, no-bleed, iridescent, dual-color - you get the drift.
If anything remotely pink with glitter catches my eye, I’m all over it. Same with blue metallic. Even if I already have 17 other remotely pink glitter or blue metallic pens. Colored ink pens are like black shoes, all similar but each serving a different purpose and no two are exactly alike.
I won’t tell you how many I have, because that would be embarrassing. For real. But it should surprise exactly no one to know that I have to sneak them into the house now. BW (husband for you new to the NL peeps) has forbidden me from purchasing any more.
Forbidden.
Like he’s the boss of me or something. As if.
I do what I want, yo.
At the same time, it’s probably good that he doesn’t read my newsletter, if you know what I mean.
Got any secret-liaisons going on with inanimate objects? Sex toys don’t count.
*This is an excerpt from my newsletter