Help me out, internets! My everyday boots are shredding on the inside, no doubt from my extended bouts with grief, and I need a new pair stat. They must be what I call Good Clomping Boots. Nothing dandy or flimsy, these boots have to take me into Mordor if need be, or into the icebox of North Dakota.
Complicating factors: 1) I like pretty things; 2) My money likes to hibernate year round.
So, what do we think? Buy these now? (Fluevog, on sale for $99)
Or these? (Fluevog, on sale for $99)
Or should I wait for these to be available again (Frye, via Zappos, on sale for $197? These are sort of the ideal.
“Other” is also an acceptable option.
The radical Islamist Saudi state or the radical Islamist Somali pirates?
Karl Rove or Deborah Solomon?
These are tough questions, but we are living in tough times. In trying to do my part for the economy, I spent $115 on clothes on Sunday! That may be a pittance to some of you but my money prefers to stay in the warm safety of my wallet, like a creature that hibernates year-round. Still, for the country’s sake, I’m making an effort, and if I win this contest at work I promised my brother I’d buy these. (They’re on sale!)
That led to a conversation about how I don’t understand the stock market and what’s going to happen now:
Adam: no one does!
literally no one knows
it’s like if you were a caveman kindergartener and you said, “what time is it?” someone would hit you on the head with a wooden club and tell you not to ask stupid questions
because no one KNEW what time it was!
i like how they wouldn’t have time yet but they would have kindergarten
cuz, of course
Adam: i think maybe kindergarten was all they had — i mean, fingerpainting was the most advanced art form
me: the rules must have been totally different though
they were pro playing with fire
Adam: you could run with scissors but you had to invent them first
In less than three weeks, I’m going to get married. Well, first I turn 25 and have lunch at Bolo, courtesy of Restaurant Week. Then I find out whether little Harry lives or dies (no nasty cheating spoilers for me). Then Mr. Ben takes the bar and either lives to tell about it or keels over from the exhaustion of constant studying, the celebratory champagne bottle his law firm sent no doubt clutched in one hand. THEN I jump the broom.
Thank god for Harry Potter VII. What could be better distraction? Except, perhaps, the most amazing pair of shoes and best birthday present EVER. Writhe with jealousy over that picture. Covet, even. Go ahead, it’s okay, God understands.
On Sunday, while recovering from much joyous wandering about in the sun — to Governor’s Island, at last!, among other places — and doing chores, I rewatched all of the A&E Pride and Prejudice. Appropriate, since it’s about marriage, more or less from start to finish. It’s a good reminder to be grateful that marriage is an option, not something I have to do to get out of my father’s house or because there’s no other way to be financially secure. To further encourage myself along those lines, I’ve also been thinking about the gay marriage advocates out there (more power to them). If they’re willing to fight as hard as they’ve been fighting to form a more blessed union, then there must be something to it, mustn’t there? I mean, besides salad bowls.
Perhaps if gay marriage were legal I’d be calmer about getting married. The world needs more queer wives, and I’d feel better about being compared to them than to the great straight wives of history.