I love the feeling of having new clothes. Putting on a shirt that still has a tag on it, that has that crisp not washed and dried feel to it. Figuring out which jeans it looks best with, which necklace hits the right spot with the neckline. The newness of seeing yourself in it. It's like being a new person and having a fashion show all at once. It's shallow and petty and materialistic, but there's nothing like it.
Years and years ago, my sister and I decided to make a forbidden word. We are not allowed to say it or write it, ever. I can never remember how this came to be. Erin always does and reminds me when I ask her. It's not a special word, we just decided to ban it. The word is rare enough that it works; but it does pop up occasionally. And whenever I see it I am elated. There it is! But I can't say it! And I want to call my sister and tell her that someone used THE word! It's a little like how I felt about swear words when I was a kid. Except more excited and less likely to tell a teacher.
I hate mopping the floor the same way some people hate fascism.