So I’m getting ready to go out today and go to the closet to get my shoes. I scanned the floor, looked in my shoe organizer, and realized they both looked strangely bare.
I’m a world class shoe-kicker-off’er so I went to the place where I spend the most time sitting in the house – a makeshift desk set up behind the sofa so I can write and not feel I’m neglecting my family. After running my hands under my little work space, I came up with this:
(Don’t judge me on the dust bunnies or the Nerf dart, ‘kay?)
And no, they weren’t lined up this neatly when I found them. I didn’t bother to mop but I sure didn’t want you to see the disarray that was my under-the-desk shoe collection. (Be sure you notice The Shoes are among the pile.)
After I took this picture, I was forced to come to grips with my affection for The Wedge. I’m told by my friend Michele the first step in conquering addiction is to admit the problem. Does anyone know what comes next? Because here is where I fall off the wagon. I’m always one good sale away from a wedge-buying relapse.
So now that I’ve found my shoes I suppose now would be a good time to relocate them back to the closet where they belong. And mop. Yes, mopping would be a good thing.
And in the spirit of the forever rockin’ June Cleaver, I think I’ll do that in heels.