It’s become clear to me that I absolutely have to get new shoes. My old leather ones are so loose and fucked up now that I feel like I’m clomping around in clown shoes, and as great as Tim Curry was in It, I’m not really a fan of that whole clown style, you might say.

It’s true that I still own two pairs of boots (possibly three, depending on whether or not I ever clean out my closet) which more or less fit me, although none of them was purchased fewer than five years ago and all of them cause me no end of agony if I’m tramping around the city all day with the Messenger Bag of Doom. I wore the taller, cuter pair today and neglected to consider the fact that Mondays and Wednesdays I need to attend five different classes that are scattered all over the Village. I came home and actually needed to soak my feet, which I’m not sure I’ve ever done before (unless you count falling asleep drunk in the bathtub).

I had some cute cat sneakers for a while. Some of you may have seen the cat sneakers, and exclaimed at their cuteness, but the truth is that they’re much too big and every single time you’ve seen me wearing them I’ve been secretly wearing two pairs of socks, which as it turns out isn’t as much fun as you might think. And weirdly, despite that second X chromosome, I don’t own a single pair of heels. Not one, as long as you don’t count two of the three pairs of boots mentioned above which technically do have something of a heel. I’m not sure that I want to own any heels, I’m just saying.

I think it’s a reasonable goal to acquire one or possibly two pairs of comfortable shoes that fit me properly by, say, Christmas. Yeah, I know it doesn’t take three months to buy two pairs of shoes, but I’m being reasonable here: I still haven’t cleaned out that closet, after all.