Sunday, March 29, 2009

I bought a pair of shoes today. They look kinda like this:

I don't have that female gene that loves shoes, craves shoes, collects shoes, and all but has sex with shoes. I own nothing with a higher heel than these and I only buy new shoes when the old ones fall apart. I tend to wear only one pair of shoes during the week. I don't have a lot of variation. If they're comfy and work with jeans, I'll wear them to death. Like my last pair.

I love New Balance shoes. Not sure why. It's not like they fit better or are more comfy than other shoes I've worn, I just like them. Now I have a new pair and the old ones that I'll throw into my trunk. (I have a pair of shoes that I'll only wear at the Humane Society and I leave them in car so as not to track animal cooties in the house and get Cipher sick.)

When I bought the shoes today it was a big thing for me. For two reasons. First, I don't like spending money on anything other than books or music. Secondly I hate to shop for anything clothing-related. And we're not talking about dropping $500 on a pair of Italian heels. These shoes cost less than $50 and still I felt bad for spending so much money.

And, of course, after convincing myself that the shoes are a necessity and not a luxury I find I'm in for another expense. Anubis (my car) decided to crack his muffler pipe and now my car sounds like a souped-up muscle car. The poor thing does have 180,000 miles on it and is 10 years I guess it's forgivable. But I just know we're talking big, expensive repair here. Since I'm not working we're a bit tight on money and I could really do without a couple of hundred bucks in car work. But it's so loud I felt conspicuous driving home on El Camino.

So here I am, feeling guilty for dropping $50 on shoes and just knowing the repair is going to make me wince. I'm thinking about selling my plasma.

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