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slipping....

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I've done something really unusual for me.
Bought a pair of rather silly shoes.
In my defense I am intending to sell the other silly shoes I never wear on eBay.

Am breaking them in.
They are breaking me.

It's not so much the height, at least I don't think so (haven't dared set foot outside yet), it's the constriction.

They are not made for fat trotters like mine, something that was not apparent when I tried one on for about 15 seconds in the shop.

They're red though.
(I like your red shoes)

That's cool! I will sing it if I ever get to wear these out of the house.

Mine comes from a grammar exercise on the use of emphasis:
I like my red shoes
I like my red shoes.
I like my red shoes.
I like my red shoes.
I like my red shoes.

New shoes always hurt, but I love them as much as fictional woman who never get blisters and raw spots and have people point out on escalators that I am leaving a trail of blood behind me.

But red shoes. Red shoes. Even harder to resist than any other shoes.
Subliminal.

Click your heals together and say, "theres no place like home". You know, those ruby slippers never dir much for dorothy in the end did they?

Also, did you know they were originally silver slippers?

Got some silver ones too.
Both second hand, natch. Just not second hand enough to be stretched. I think the poor bitch who bought them gave up on them for reasons I cn't afford to.

Let's put it this way - the red shoes I found so appalling feel mighty fine when I take off the silver wedges.

'70s party anyone?
I'll be Muriel before she went all Hollywood on us.
PS - just got my wig through the post. Damn I'm hot. And don't look bad neever.
Costume courtesy of charity shop.

Need to take pics now photo cards are back.

What does it mean when you come home from a few days away, by yourself, and all you want to do is leave? Every other time I've gone away, even just over night, I've been happy to come home and have missed my family and all the usual stuff. This time - and strangely enough, they've cleaned up and everything so that I didn't even come home to piles of washing and dirty floors etc - all I want to do is get back in the car and start driving and just keep on driving.

I love my family and I like my home, but I seriously do not want to be here. :( I should be worried I think.

It means counselling.
Someone to talk it through with with absolutely no judgements.

Probably just post-holiday malaise given you were so free of responsibility and worries.
But don't swallow it down if you are having a hard time.
I know these things can take months to move (don't I just?) but if you can find a charity and/ or pay for just one session even letting it out might help.

Much, much love.

Talking things through with someone objective is probably a good idea.
I hope you can get things sorted, Ali. Sending hugs.

Just taken on some overtime.
Even though my shift today - samw time but Thursday not Friday - was frantic.
Got a financial hole to dig out of (surprise!) but at least I'm not drinking.

Tomorrow supposed to be off.
Working instead 09.30-13.30. Sounds nothing, but weekly lunchtime is busiest.
Still, hand over from the lovely Tink, and she's a hard and thorough worker.
Then hand over for Pig-Face (the nickname of a boy in a book who has the same Christian name.) I'm not overly fond of him though. Adds 15-30 minutes to set-up.

Expect I'll be asked to do 6 or so hours Saturday.
Short shifts, but pressurised if you take them seriously regarding customer service.
And seven days a week, with up to five starting at 06.30.

Sorry.
Writing this sounds all "woe is me".
It just feels like it right now so I may as well whinge until I get used to it.

Good news:
My lovely red shoes feel great in the house now. I just need to walk down the street til I bleed (I'll take flip-flopsor the way back) and then work on scabbing over.

Silver boots still tricky.

I'll never understand why you would wear uncomfortable shoes.

I've mistakenly bought uncomfortable shoes before and then just didn't wear them ever.