We spent Sunday picnicking in the park. As we munched on rice, veggies and ribs, P-man and Z-girl attempted to chase squirrels. Luckily for the squirrels the slack of their leash protected them from the hungry eyes of P-man and Z-girl. Z-girl is a silent stalker. She stares intently at her prey as if she could will them to come within paw reach of her. P-man’s approach involves a lot of begging to be released to snatch the fat squirrels that reside in the city.
The squirrels taunt them with their tail flicks and pauses midway up a tree. If squirrels could laugh, these squirrels were wetting themselves.
Lrudlrick invented a delicious concoction of iced tea and Grey Goose that left us in a nice buzz. The thunderstorms that hit towards nightfall didn’t phase us as we let the effects of a cool beverage and even cooler winds engulf us.
The last week I’ve been so preoccupied that I failed to realize that this whole evaluation thing at work has changed my outlook to the worse. I think the evaluation left me in a state where I felt constantly judged by others. I wound up feeling like a high school kid last week wanting to be liked by the other kids.
It got me down a bit. I spent all last week working my butt off in the hopes of being accepted that I failed to realize that by trying to hard, I was making it worse for myself internally.
Funny thing is the evaluation was a positive evaluation. Why would I become so self critical of myself over a positive evaluation? Because I’m a freaking’ obsessive compulsive, that’s why. That and I am my mother’s daughter. I have to make a conscious effort to stop overanalyzing things lest I desire to become my mom.
The overanalyzing left me in a state where I didn’t want to write or share my thoughts. That can’t be good. If you’re constantly wondering what people are going to think, you’ll eventually wind up in a mental institution. One week left me down and cranky. I can only imagine what it’s like for those who feel that way every week.
Needing a pick me up and realizing it’s been a while since I treated myself to another pair of shoes, I bought two pairs of espadrilles. I also found an unbelievably gorgeous pair of brown Mary Janes that unfortunately did not make it home with me. The lady said it was store policy to not sell mismatched sets.
“But you can’t find its sisters and I’m willing to take the mismatched set. They’re only a half size off from each other.”
“I’m sorry ma’am.”
“Well, what do you do with the mismatched sets?”
“We send them back to the merchandiser.”
“So there’s a shoe limbo? Perfectly good shoes are left to rot in some bin somewhere? How cruel and unusual is that? What did those shoes do to you?”
At this time, Lrudlrick is completely embarrassed is pushing me towards the register. The lady next to me is chuckling and the girl next to her is giving me the sympathetic ‘been there, girl’ look.
As we made our way back to the car I told Lrudlrick, “Call me cynical but maybe she just wanted those shoes for herself. Those shoes were awesome.” “Honey, I knew you’d say that and I honestly don’t think her feet are your size. I checked.” “Well. Maybe I should go back tomorrow and see if they’re on her feet.” “You want to go back, we’ll go back.”
That’s my husband realizing that I have what I term, shoe brain. Shoe brain is when rational thought is paralyzed by a display of shoes. It’s usually temporary but can gain longevity if the display table also has a sign that says ‘SALE’.
This is a plea to anyone who works at Franco Sarto. Somewhere in Franco Sarto’s factory is a bin of mismatched shoes. If you work at Franco Sarto’s and have access to this bin, I will gladly pay you to free those brown Mary Janes that deserve a good home. Email me.
Free Mary Jane!
Related tags: self criticism, shoes
