At least I'm not fond of these socks
It's possible, possible, that I need new shoes. I say this because my feet are damp. This of course has more than a little to do with having to walk to the tube station through clean but trampled snow and filthy road slush. But my trusty DM shoes are a little worn out now, and retaining the dampness from yesterday as well as picking up new. Lovely.
So I think I need new shoes. Which kind of sucks, because I hate shoe shopping. I hate it. And I sort of hate shoes. I hate most shoes I ever see, I hate wearing in new shoes, I hate new-shoe blisters and I hate shoes that take ages to put on.
I probably need boots, too. I mean, for walking through the snow type thing. But my feet are so big and my ankles so tiny and my calves so muscular that boots inevitably don't fit properly unless they're knee length. They don't provide support around my ankles and I get blisters on my Achilles tendon. Which. Ouch.
Anyway. New shoes. I hate them. They're expensive and they give me an unhealthy dose of self-loathing that I get through a pair of shoes a year and that can't be normal, right? Though an improvement on what it has been, every time I need new shoes, I whinge to myself about the expense and ask myself what is wrong with me that I can't make shoes last longer.
And the Samuel Vimes Boots Theory of Socioeconomic Unfairness doesn't apply here, because I buy expensive shoes.
In related news: DRINKING TONIGHT.
I, uh, might not make it to the pub beforehand, because I'll be corralling scientists to a drink beforehand, then want to go home to get changed. But! I expect to see Nodnollians at Sin City, buying me drinks. Otherwise, unless you turn up at the party tomorrow, you will be dead to me for a whole year. So there.
It's related, because I have no idea how I'm getting from my house to the tube station in fancy shoes. Looks like I'll have to bring sensible shoes for coming home in. Maybe.