Yum

Apologies won't fetch me a venti iced macchiato, though I suppose your little chuckles mean you're paying proper attention. Left to curate my own evening, I dragged a small circular compact mirror across the carpet right next to my newly acquired lipstick. Prying open the clasp with both paws took immense restraint and effort, but the lid finally popped with a crisp click. Angling the glass toward the warm lamp overhead, I caught sight of myself: immaculate, sparkling, and frankly doing this rug a favor. I gave my reflection a curt nod of pure approval. Perfection simply cannot be rushed.