Shoes.

After dropping off the car to have the little door that covers the gas cap fixed (even jamming the switch to “release” didn’t do any good this time; I think the latch is broken, rather than the spring just bent out of place), I went shoe shopping. I don’t do this very often. 2007 marks a record year: I have now purchased three pairs of shoes in one year. Two pairs of shoes in one day, in fact.

But the significance of the event doesn’t stop there. I bought a pair of shoes that were both girly and comfortable. Not just “You know, after I break these in, I might be able to walk around in them all day, if I spend most of my time sitting down,” comfortable, but “Damn! I could do everything from go hiking to dance in these suckers, in a foreign country if I had to!”

I also got a pair of Dr. Scholl’s that look like my existing-but-slightly-exploded Sketchers, but I don’t feel any need to link to them. They feel heavenly, though, like nursing shoes that look cool.

All three pair are, of course, black. I haven’t totally lost my senses.