I can’t believe how tired I am. I’ve been trying to get settled in my new place and it’s just not happening as quickly as I’d like. And I seem to be hemorrhaging money.

But on Sunday, something came up that was so spooky and unnerving, I had to open my wallet once more.

I’d just left the Kinky Summer event at Lair de Sade, where I’d bought another corset and had my portrait taken, and pulled up to a small used furniture store. I walked inside with my tape measure to find a short, small something-or-other to park my home theater stuff on by the TV.

That’s when I saw a gorgeous antique dresser with bi-level, beveled walnut drawers, a peppered white marble top covering the lower set of drawers. But the truly astonishing thing was that every drawer’s handle was a lion’s head with a ring pull in its mouth — the symbol I put in my slave collars. Needless to say, I’d removed it from The Frenchman’s collar with a heavy heart. The sight of it on this dresser was deeply moving.

I just kept staring at it, gingery opening and closing the sweetly curved drawers, which were immaculately lined with slightly yellowing newspaper stories.

I asked the store owner how much she wanted for it. She named a sum that was probably 1/8th what it’s really worth. And I’ve been grumbling that the small dresser I have — which I’ve had since college — is falling apart. So, I bought it on the spot.

A highly recommended delivery company is coming Sunday to bringing it to my house. It’s going to cost 50% of the dresser’s price to move it, but I don’t care.

My life is a Borges story. I have no doubt interesting tales will emerge from this…