Evildeb is reading technical support cases in German. She’s translating them in babelfish. We thought the above was from the error message, and wondered why we couldn’t have the same words in the English error message. But it’s not part of the error message. None the less, it’s a good blog title. My day, however, is going just fine. I have some new shoes on, and they feel great! Danskos, which I got for half price from Danskooutlet.com. Dansko….. not a cheap shoe. But good for walking. My feets deserve some new shoes. [I got the “Fran” btw, in green]

A few weeks ago, I went up to Vancouver BC for the day. And like a dumb, vain girl, I wore impractical tall boots. Now, they aren’t much of a heel, mostly platform, and I wear them all the time. So, in my defense, I didn’t know they would be so problematic, or I wouldn’t have worn them. But they make me taller, which I like. We ended up walking around the neighborhood a great deal, because it’s a walking type neighborhood. And I could tell pretty quickly that the boots were going to bother me. The socks I was wearing where on the thin side, and there is no cushion inside the boot, my feet were kinda sliding. Sliding leads to friction, and you know what friction leads to, don’t you? Blisters. I knew my shoes hurt me, but once we got back from the walking, I was basically sitting and they were ok. When I put my shoes back on to go to my car, it was not comfortable. Ok, it hurt. But I got to driving and didn’t stop for soda until I crossed the border. I had to use the little girls room too. When I got out of the car, when I stood up, I collapsed back on the car seat. My feet hurt like hell at that point. Because the blisters had arrived. On the bottom of my feet!

The thing is, when you walk, you use the bottom of your feet, you can’t avoid it. I hobbled into the am/pm only to find out the bathroom was closed for repairs. This meant I would have to stop again, and walk again. I made it as far as Everett, about 35 minutes from home. I seriously considered just peeing myself. it seemed like a really good idea. But I stopped. When I got home, it was late and I pretty much hobbled to bed.

When I woke up in the morning, I had the full blown big blisters and I couldn’t walk. I barely made it to the bathroom. Everyone’s advice was to drain them. Do you know how gross that is? Poking a hole in a giant blister and then squeezing the puss out? So gross. But kinda cool, in a sick way. So I did it, but it wasn’t until about 2:30 or 3:00 that I was able to put on my thickest socks and gently insert my feet into my comfy Merrells, and prissy step out to the car to go to the nearest drive-thru for Dr. Pepper. Now you KNOW it’s pain if I waited that long for caffeine. My feet were tender for days.

Now, maybe that’s not enough pain to warrant a pair of Danskos, even if I got them for half off. But the other day I was taking a shower, Pru was sitting en garde on the toilet seat, as per usual, and I knocked the razor off the side of the tub. I ignored it. And then I stepped on it. And sliced a big gash on the bottom of my left foot. Blood everywhere, Pru was no help in a crisis – she went running. But that could have been because I could not resist making Psycho-esque “reet reet” stabbing noises, as blood rain down the drain. I grabbed the nearest implement of first aid I could find, a washcloth [an unfortunate white one] and tied it around my foot. After I got all the shampoo out of my hair, I went out to find some second aid.

I know I have a first aid kit somewhere, probably still in a box in the garage, where a lot of my stuff has sat for the past year an a half. I went to the hall closet to see if my stepdad had left one behind, because that’s where my mom kept it when she lived in the house. Nada. So, I improvised. I wrapped a ultra thin sanitary napkin around my foot and secured in place with a hair scrunchy. Take that, fashion fascist scrunchy haters! That scrunchy probably saved my life!

So you can see, I needed new shoes. My feet are traumatized. I can’t believe I have spent so much time talking about feet, even if they are mine. I hate feet. I don’t have to justify my shoe purchases to you people! What’s wrong with you guys? Making me feel guilty for buying more shoes. Give a girl a break.