Nopes. Bloggie not broken. I eated it.
Okay - I didn't eat the blog, but my dogs did eat my black pumps. My favorite black pumps. The sensible black pumps that matched with everything. The ones I could actually walk in instead of the ones to which my poor soles have been relegated.
I am re-learning how to wobble, erm, I mean walk. I use to walk all over the place in these things ... these things that are called shoes but are really an ancient form of torture disguised as fashion - which in this case are out of fashion anyway.
Am I making sense?
It's late.
On her blog my friend wrote about her "jimmy legs" - itchy twitchy keep-you-awake-until- you-wanna-yell kind of thing. I could relate, perhaps too well, because my legs felt sympathy itchy twitchies. Didn't know legs had empathy.
Okay - this is crazy talk. But it's okay. I can do that here because my boss doesn't read this. She does read facebook.
Tomorrow I'm wearing my runners. And I'll be sure to securely close the closet door when I put my shoes away at night. The household critters will have to settle for eating socks out of the laundry, the couch and.... alas.... poor Tinkerbell.
