thessalian (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thessalian) wrote2006-01-23 11:17 am
thessalian) wrote2006-01-23 11:17 am
Dead Shoes Walking
Payday!
I'm not so sure what's so rewarding about payday. I suppose I could be nice and say something about how it's solid proof that all the slog we go through in the office five days a week pays off in the end, but while that's true, I don't think that's the main reason I like payday. I tend to think it's the sight of a barren bank account coming suddenly to life, like a radioactive Chia Pet. Either that or I just like the ability to go out and buy things I need.
I'm going shopping at lunchtime. I need some new footwear. My white faux-leather trainers are breathing their last. My 3-hole Docs are dead. My suede heels, which I've had for about 11 years now, died, rose as zombies, clacked through the night in unholy torment for awhile and then got "Bullet in the instep - squish" by very confused zombie hunters who turned fashion police and were last seen on What Not To Wear, decapitating Trinny and Susanna for raising the Ghosts of Fashion Victims Yet To Come. Or maybe that was all in my head, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm running out of shoes. DoomBoots, while still standing, are not really work-friendly footwear. Unless you're in a hospital. Or can get away with anything. Or can be arsed to shove them on your feet and ankles at eight in the morning while the cat is trying to eat the laces and be petted all at the same time.
Shoes. Right. Need new shoes. And at least one nightshirt. Nightshirts with holes are one thing. Nightshirts with holes that aren't even in interesting places? Not so much.
And then off to Benihana. Mmm. Hibachi...
Today might not be so bad.
I'm not so sure what's so rewarding about payday. I suppose I could be nice and say something about how it's solid proof that all the slog we go through in the office five days a week pays off in the end, but while that's true, I don't think that's the main reason I like payday. I tend to think it's the sight of a barren bank account coming suddenly to life, like a radioactive Chia Pet. Either that or I just like the ability to go out and buy things I need.
I'm going shopping at lunchtime. I need some new footwear. My white faux-leather trainers are breathing their last. My 3-hole Docs are dead. My suede heels, which I've had for about 11 years now, died, rose as zombies, clacked through the night in unholy torment for awhile and then got "Bullet in the instep - squish" by very confused zombie hunters who turned fashion police and were last seen on What Not To Wear, decapitating Trinny and Susanna for raising the Ghosts of Fashion Victims Yet To Come. Or maybe that was all in my head, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm running out of shoes. DoomBoots, while still standing, are not really work-friendly footwear. Unless you're in a hospital. Or can get away with anything. Or can be arsed to shove them on your feet and ankles at eight in the morning while the cat is trying to eat the laces and be petted all at the same time.
Shoes. Right. Need new shoes. And at least one nightshirt. Nightshirts with holes are one thing. Nightshirts with holes that aren't even in interesting places? Not so much.
And then off to Benihana. Mmm. Hibachi...
Today might not be so bad.
no subject
You know it's lines like this that make me realize how very much I love your writing, be it fiction or simple day to day reality.