I have washed not only the kitchen floor, but all the hardwood as well. I have brought my office carpet up from where it was in summer storage and scrubbed it clean.
I’ve done editing, some on my MS, some on the one I’m reading for the publisher.
I am too awake.
So I will tell you about the find I thought impossible.
This season, I decided that I wanted red shoes. Red leather shoes, preferably with a small yet sensible heel, and a strap. Why? I have no earthly idea why. I just realised one day that I wanted red shoes. I think it stemmed from a desire to wear something concrete that reminded me that life was fun. I don’t really understand the connection, because I find red a very difficult colour for me. It has to be a very specific kind of red, with lots of blue tone to it, and not too bright.
I only mentioned this odd desire to one or two people, because really, red shoes? How impractical is that? And remarkably unlike me.
I hate shoe shopping, by the way; it’s right up there with bra shopping. I have long narrow Cinderella feet and buying shoes is a pain because so few styles actually fit, and I’m picky about heels. My toes usually feel crammed into the end of most shoes. Also, my heel slips out of most pairs unless there’s a strap. My right foot is an entire half-size larger than my left. Shoe shopping is so traumatic that I don’t go into footwear stores unless I have to. Since this odd notion struck I’ve been engaging in odd behaviour for me: I’ve been glancing into shoe shops as I walk by. Red leather stands out. (Most of it seems to be patent — shudder! — this fall, from what I’ve seen.) Red shoes are easy to spot amongst the brown and black, so I can see them very quickly and usually discard them as possibilities right away. Too wedge, too platform, too patent (ugh), too bright, too chunky, too high a heel, too flat, etcetera, etcetera.
Except today, when I was walking through the mall, having stopped to look for plain shirts for Liam. Today out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a lovely little shoe deep inside a shop, and actually went in to take a closer look for the first time this season. The shoe was a deep blue-red suede, closer to a claret colour, almost a ballerina flat with a wisp of a heel, and a tiny strap close to the curve of the vamp. It was lovely.
But it had two strikes against it: it was suede (I have two pairs of suede loafers that I never wear because if they get wet they’re pretty much ruined and I like my shoes to be a bit more practical than that, especially in this climate), and the price (they were over one hundred and twenty dollars). Expensive, impractical: not even worth trying on.
As I turned to go, I caught sight of another red shoe. It was soft leather, still blue-red but lighter in tone, with a calm gentle curve of bone-coloured decorative stitching along the edge and over the toe. It had a higher heel, with the strap slightly further from the curve of the vamp. They were almost exactly what I had (admittedly vaguely) envisioned.
I picked it up and played with it a bit. The leather was very soft, but sturdy; it had a good sole; the price didn’t make me want to pass out. And I eventually thought Heck, why not, it can’t hurt to try, and asked to try it on. The size I usually take was a bit loose; the size lower was a just-fit. (They’re made narrow and long. Imagine that.) They were comfortable when I walked around. They made me smile shyly when I looked down at them.
I thought about it as I walked back and forth, and then I took them off. They cost one hundred dollars. They are red shoes. How often would I wear them?
I asked for the shop’s card, and the model number, and said I’d think about it. And I’ve been thinking all day. Off and on it’s been How often would I wear them? and Hundred dollar shoes! and They are exactly what I imagined. I didn’t think I’d ever find them, so I hadn’t thought about what I’d do if I met them. The likelihood was so slim, after all.
At dinner, when I said, “They’re red shoes, how often would I wear them?”, HRH replied, “As often as you wanted.” Which is a very sensible answer. And my feet don’t grow any more; they’d last me a long time. They’re made by a good, reliable, well-made company.
And I just found fifty dollars’ worth of gift certificates in my purse that I’d forgotten I had, part of my last birthday present from my in-laws.
I hate shoe shopping. I so rarely find shoes that fit properly.
I think I’m coming home with this pair tomorrow. And I will wear them whenever I please.