I went back to work at my lovely part-time writing gig to escape the dismal state of affairs known as "daytime television." But as I sit here -- with edits on my left hand and a 1,500 word article on collaboration at my right -- I am pinched by stitches, sore muscles and chaffing pants.
What I need (which is something I can't have for another week...) is obviously a new pair of shoes. Luckily I work near a discount shoe bonanza, which yeilded a funky pair of ankle boots that will be perfect for trekking through the cobblestone streets of Rome.
My friend JAC who is spearheading this trip, believes in the pointy-toe shoe philosopy. Pointy-toed shoes make your legs look longer. She's 5'7. I'm not. Her legs will always look longer than mine.
She's also much more of a shiny dresser with lots of bling, while I'm much more black clothes, Dr. Martens and black fingernails. So I bought the rounded toe boots that will look great with my jeans and serve me well if I'm cornered in a back alley and need to kick some guy in the nuts to get away.
Ok, now I'm hoping that happens just so I can try out these new black beauties.
Man, I am in a bad mood!
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