It was 50 degrees this morning, but the rain had stopped (sadly.) And while madly trying to get dressed for work (dark green merino wool sweater and gray pinstriped skirt with black asymmetrical placket) I realized I couldn’t wear the red heels again because I wore them yesterday. Neither could I wear my usual variety of pretty sandals or wedge sandals because, well, it was 50 frickin’ degrees!! No sandals. And boots would require finding a pair of tights. Nope. I needed a pair of normal shoes.

So I spotted a pair sticking out from under the bed. Almost fortuitous, really, and probably had been hiding under there from two years ago. A pair of red and black alligator(ish) sling-backs – totally covered in dust. I wiped them clean with a wet wipe, shoved ‘em on my feet and ran out the door.

They sorta felt funny, really slimy and sticky, but it was 7:50 and I was already late so I just left. When I got to my desk I took them off because I like to walk around barefoot when no one is here. That’s when I realized that the padding or lining or whatever the heck had molded and stuck onto my feet like a sprayed on slipper. I’m not talking about the lining just coming out, I mean it’s now *stuck* and molded onto my feet. They’re solid back and it’s shit to try to get off – like wearing black rubber socks. Lovely. And they feel all squishy. Ick.

Note to self…buy some damn shoes. Not sandals!!

So this is what it’s like to dress for work in places where it isn’t 72 and sunny everyday. Hm.

In other news, I just realized we leave for vacation in one month. On November 21. I’m really not as excited as I should be. First reason is that I think I’ve actually gotten fatter – which I didn’t consider possible. I’m the human version of a Ford Explorer – just keep getting bigger. Last time we went to Belize I starved for 3 months and went to a tanning booth every three days. I wasn’t thin, but I was at least a size 14 and tan and reasonably toned from regular work outs. Now. Ugh. Let’s just not talk about what size my pale and flabtastic ass is.

Second, two weeks is a long time so are we going to bludgeon each other from boredom?

Third, I dunno. I’m just not “excited.” I can work myself up to excitement sure, but in general I’m just sort of looking forward to two weeks of no alarm at 6:30. I need a break. And what better place to go than a little island in a far off (ok, only 6 hours away) country?

I guess one doesn’t have to be crazed with anticipation about vacation. Maybe it’s good to just be sort of “eh” about it. Most of the time big events fall short of expectations, so maybe it’s healthy that I’m just expecting two weeks of sun, pool, snorkeling (if I can and don’t freak like Hawaii), and eating lobster. And drinking lots of Belikin (only beer in Belize.) And even more rum. All right. Maybe I am excited. Who cares if I’m fat? At least I’ve got cute outfits.