So remember way back when -- when I was so overjoyed to have found these fabulous red shoes? I loved these pretty, pretty loafers, people! I wore them all the time. Also -- when I bought some for myself, I also bought some for Coleen, and I bought some for my sister. I'm generous like that.
tangent: true fact -- my sister bought herself -- and me -- a fantastic bright red raincoat, at the same time that I bought myself -- and her -- these stunning red loafers. We traveled together soon after, when we visited our family in Texas and Oklahoma -- dressed identically in red raincoats and red loafers. We were like weird adult Doublemint twins. Or Rockettes without talent.
Well, here's how pathetically in love with these shoes I was when I discovered them: I bought -- for myself -- two pairs of the rockin' red flats. My theory was that I would eventually wear them out (scuff them up too badly, run the heels down, wear a hole in them somehow), so I would keep a pair stashed away so that I would never be without them.
Sad, ain't it?
So here we are, two years later, and it turns out I was right; I did wear out the delicious red shoes. At some point, some beverage was spilled on them; I have a vague memory of cooking oil splashing and staining them. But the true point of no return was that a hole developed in the lining of the shoes, so I got a blister every time I wore them. You are noticing, I'm sure, that I said "every time." So you are correct if you assume that I wore those bitches many times knowing that a blister would be my reward. I'm ridiculous like that.
But finally I decided it was time to set the rockin' red loafers aside, and replace them with the identical rockin' red loafers I had stashed away for just such a day as this. I wore the new shoes to work one day last month, and then came home and took them off. I left them by our front door, which turns out to have been a big mistake.
This is what happens when delicious red leather shoes are left where the hellhounds can get them.
People, I got to wear them once. Once.
So the good news is that I know what I'm serving as a main course for Thanksgiving dinner: forget the turkey. We're having roast beast.