I'M NO LONGER SAVING THINGS FOR BEST When I was little, I would collect the prettiest stickers I could find - a dreamland of glitter anc gloss that were magic to my eyes. But I would never stick them on anything. I loved them so much that I couldn't commit to one surface - I was saving them for best, biding my time, waiting for the perfect something to arrive But nothing I deemed worthy enough ever showed up. The year efore I turned thirty, I visited New York. From a gorgeous little shop in Brooklyn, I bought a notebook so glorious that, well, I've never written in it. hat was over a year ago, and now it collects dust on my bookshelf, because I have been waiting hundreds of days for a groundbreaking thing to say. And over there, in the kitchen fridge. It's been so long that I can't actually remember what I was saving that bottle of wine for. My uncle kept fine china behind a glass cabinet and - and then. Today I woke up and thought: I cannot live this way. Because how is that perfume ever going to be my signature scent, if I'm saving it for best? We don't know how many days are left. And I'm older now, and I don't think the right time is coming. So instead, how about I'll just be a happy mess? Because I think "best' is something that only exists inside of my head.