I have a drawer.
I have always had it.
Even as a kid, when my dresser was 12 centimeters taller than I was and had 4 big drawers and 2 little ones, I had this drawer. I have this drawer now; even though my dresser is 2 feet shorter than I am and only has 3 drawers that pull out only half way.
My drawer is a rainy day repository.
It has all this crazy, precious stuff in it that I rarely wear...and yet...that stuff has it's very own drawer.
Every once in a while I dip into it...like when I'm feelin' a little sassy or a little sad. Some days you need finger symbols and other days you need mohair socks your mom knit for you. My drawer has it all.
It not just a diva drawer though.
It contains utilitarian pieces as well...like my single pair of add-a-cup foamies (I mean, honestly, who cares if your foamies don't match your bra?) and that extra long, single strap that turns your plain ol' strapless bra into a versatile piece of fashion machinery.
It's a good drawer.
When I was kid it had even better stuff in it. It held silky, polyester scarves and hand-med-down Estee Lauder cosmetic bags with Barbie brushes and Lemon/Lime lip gloss stashed them.
It was great drawer.
That drawer is everything that is great about being a girl...even if you don't pull it out all that often.
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