The Boots of Doom. That's what I've come to call this one pair of boots I own. It's like Chinese foot binding. The bone mangling and toe crushing. But they're cute.
Are they worth it? Probably not. I will wear them once and put up with the pain and the torchure. Then I take them off, vowing not wear them again and apologize to my little feet. But then some time goes by and I think it was just a fluke. Just my imagination that a single pair of boots could cause so much pain. And I wear them again. Now, I'm serious. Fashion is not worth killing my only pair of footsies.
In other news: the rain is a-pourin' and the wind is a-blowin'. And it's a lovely shade of flat gray primer outside. It's like the city is hiding under the covers. I think I can battle this with multiple cups of joe. More java please.
I hope the sky is a nice blue or at least a more interesting gray tomorrow. I'm flying the friendly skies. So I won't be able to write. But I'll be back tomorrow night. (That doesn't seem worth it either.)