I love them.
So, I used to have these brown heeled sandals that I looooved. ... But they started to break - oh, over two years ago - and I monkey glued them back together one too many times. (Notice that I did not super glue them. Some lessons may take me a while to learn, but eventually, I do learn them.)
The last time I monkey glued the sandals, I glued one of the straps in the wrong place. The glue set. The straps were uneven. My right shoe didn't fit my foot right. ... Oh, and the cover on the heels was buckling and the leather flower trim was starting to fray. ... Anyway, I retired the brown sandals. Right into the trash. After, like, six years.
It was a tragedy. I am telling you that I have felt a personal loss.
And now that it's springtime, I have been particularly missing them. (Which translates into: I am feeling the need for some new brown sandals.) So, I hit the shoe store on my way home from work tonight.
Please note that there's not a brown sandal amongst the bunch:
Sadly, there weren't any brown sandals for me to buy. (But there were some chocolate brown, croc-pattern patent heels. I'll take them!)
There, were, however, other springy sandals to be found. And purchased. (Aren't those little yellow wedges about the cutest thing you've ever seen?!)
To quote a line from one of my all-time favorite movies, when it comes to shoes: "I. Can't. Help. Myself."
What this means is that I will have to continue my search for the brown heeled sandal. The fact that I have brown canvas wedges, brown tweed slingbacks, brown Mary Janes, brown flats and nude peep-toes in my arsenal mean nothing to me. I need a brown heeled sandal. (And whatever I happen to run across between now and finding them, too, is my guess.)
I may need a support group. ... On the other hand, if buying shoes is wrong, I don't want to be right.