I remember as a young woman, just ahead of moving into my first 'proper' house with my very own mortgage surprisingly discovering a heretofore unseen passion for things - bookshelves and bed-linen, crockery and cookware. Anyone who has met me in the flesh would realise that I don't find self-expression in designer clothing or accessories, so I think the sudden burst of interest in household goods was some part of finding out what I was like as a person who lived on my own.
Perhaps I come closest to this sin when I am buying books, it generally isn't enough simply to read them as I do want to own them, and finding a new author with a substantial back catalogue is a real stomach clenching pleasure, I can go shopping and bring them all home to rest. I want to see them on my shelves with the other hundreds of titles and run my eyes across them and have my head swirl with the dizzying amount of choice I have when I ask myself the question "What shall I read next?"
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6 of 7 Deadly Sins