Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

I just had to give my mom all of my money. I'm so not even kidding. She has this bank account that she uses just to move money between the tiniest sprinter, me, and her, since we're forever loaning each other scrilla. The savings account is never used, and I don't have access to it - so she's taking my money and putting it into that account. My firm instructions are for her to give it back for medical emergencies or travel, nothing else. Nothing at all.

You might be saying to yourself - but Emma, aren't you a gainfully employed 29 year old woman? Shouldn't you be able to handle your own money?

You'd think. Let me show you what me handling my own money looked like today.

Background: I had two places to make returns; Ann Taylor Loft and Sephora. At ATL, I'd ordered some summery work shirts online in a size medium petite, apparently completely forgetting that I have never been a medium and that all of my other ATL shirts are either XS or XSP. My intention was to return most of them and exchange one or two for the right size. At Sephora, I needed to return the no!no! because as soon as I opened it I realized I didn't really want to burn the hair off my legs with a little pink stun gun.

My plan: Run into ATL. Grab the two shirts I'd decided I wanted to keep in the right size, go to the counter, and do the swap. Run back to the car, drive down to the entrance closer to Sephora (to prevent that ever present wallet danger 'mall wandering'), return the no!no!, run back to the car, and become a wealthier and more responsible feeling person.

What actually happened:

What? Stuff was on sale!!

See, I could have gone home and gotten the credit card. I didn't for two reasons. 1) I will eventually spend that money at Sephora anyway, because it is where I buy all my makeup. 2) Going home for the credit card and coming back to the mall just wasn't a good idea. Trust me. I mean, look what happened next:

The Apple Store is FAR too close to the Sephora store. Far too close.

I touched it. And then... I bought it.

And that, dear readers, is why my mother needs to be in charge of my savings account.

Now excuse me while I go play with my iPad.

Stockholm, Day 3

Stockholm, Day 2