Giving in

Life is too short to wear comfortable shoes, I’ve always said.

Thus, my closet is packed with about 100 pairs of heels, sky high boots, and glittery sandals.

It’s hard to find a pair of sneakers.

I do have a pair of Chuck Taylors.

And two pairs of running shoes.

Which is why it pains me to admit that I broke down and bought comfortable FLATS for my closet.

I just couldn’t take it anymore – walking in to work, balancing on delicate heels, trying not to break an ankle and turn into a yard sale.

My friend Barbara should be THRILLED.

She wears nothing but Tiek flats and she LOVES them.

You better love them if you’re spending over $300 a pair, is what I say!

I did not buy Tieks.

No, instead I bought a few pairs which I think will fit my unnaturally wide feet.

We’re not talking Hobbit-wide feet, just slightly wider than average.

Thus, these new pairs will be joining my closet in a week and will become staples for my wardrobe accessories.

I just can’t wear heels ALL DAY LONG anymore.

It hurts.

I give up!

Full disclosure: This MAY have something to do with me tripping TWICE in my black heels after a long day at work and literally almost RIPPING MY LITTLE TOE OFF MY RIGHT FOOT in the process.

Flats? Click. Buy.

Nightmare

I had a nightmare.

Not your average wake-up-stressed-out nightmare.

No.

This was a wake-up-barely-breathing nightmare.

I started to sing an ABBA song to myself to calm my nerves.

Waterloo.

Something peppy and upbeat to combat the fear coursing through my body.

“Alexa, turn on the light,” I commanded.

Alexa, that smarmy little bitch, did no such thing.

“Alexa, turn on the light,” I repeated.

My Amazon Echo did not respond.

So I reached over and turned on the light.

Relief.

I dreamt that someone was hurting people and I was chasing it. I cornered it in an old, scary house and looked it in the face.

The face was black, like a dementor from Harry Potter, but gradually a face emerged.

My brother.

That’s when I woke up.

I texted The Swede.

I knew he’d be up at 1 am PST, 10 am Swedish time.

Sure enough, he texted me back.

He calmed me down and settled my nerves.

He didn’t laugh or make fun of me.

It’s as if he sensed that I needed to get it out of my system before I could go back to sleep again.

So he just let me vent.

What can I say?

He’s just an amazing man.

Maybe it’s because he has daughters that he seems particularly in tune with the feminine, my feminine, particularly when I’m freaking out.

But I’ll tell you, had he been in the bed with me, I would have wrapped myself around him and thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

I was SO GRATEFUL!