I've had a tragedy. I am a huge fan of the clothing store New York & Company and try to visit it at least once a month. Last month I bought a fabulous shirt that was not only flattering to my favorite assets (my breasts), but also to my least favorite (my hips). The month before I bought an equally fabulous sweater as a birthday gift to myself.
Yesterday I pulled both from the dryer to find that a crayon had mysteriously appeared during the drying time and melted basically on just those two shirts. I was beyond pissed.
Today, the hubby encouraged me to check out the latest NYC fashions while he let the ball of fire play in the germ-riddled play area. What the hell, the kid has to get sick sometime, right?
I checked, I purchased, the grey sky was not so depressing.
And then it happened.
On my way to Vicky's Secret, I passed by a shoe store. Strappy, well-heeled and black -- they were calling my name. I miss my summer shoes. I miss the breeze on my toes, which would be painted some bright and fun color like red, or red, or the ever-popular red. I can't wait for aching arches, little blisters on my big toe and ... summer...
I went in, tried them on, balked at the price but I left with a lustful backward glance. Target will have a similar style at much lower prices and then they will be mine.
Oh yes, they will be mine...
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