The Omen

As I sit here at the coffee shop in the mall, where I’m usually found from 1:00 pm to 3:00 pm, Sunday to Thursday, I am beginning to get cold feet… No, I’m not apprehensive about anything. I’m talking about the real/physical/literal cold feet. My feet are freezing and my toes feel like friggin’ popsicles.

"Why is that?", you may ask as you read this nonsensical rambling of my puny brain. Well, it’s because I have just finished washing my feet, on account of it getting dirty as I’ve been running around the office all morning barefoot, due to the most recent tragedy of me ripping my slippers. Yep, I am a slipper ripper. Rhyme away, my dear friends. Rhyme away.

Now, this really isn’t something that I’d normally write about, however, while I was at the pool yesterday where I usually am found from 6:30 pm to 7:30 pm, Sunday to Thursday and 3:00 pm to 5:00 pm, Saturday, I ripped my other slipper. My favorite black wedge thingies. (And the saddest thing about it is I looked so hot wearing those, darn it.)

Two of my old-reliable/will-go-with-anything slippers, gone. And it happened two days in a row.

As I stare into my currently taped-up beaded goldies (Yeah, I know. So squatterly fashionable, right? Ewww.), I can’t help but ask myself and my imaginary friend why all of this happened. My imaginary friend thinks that it’s because I have invisible blades on the soles of my feet. I, on the other hand, think that it’s an omen. Yes, an omen. And I know that it’s not in my nature to be superstitious, but I really do believe in my heart of hearts that me ripping two slippers in two consecutive days is a sign…

…A sign that I should stop being such a cheapskate and stop buying brandless shoes…

Bow.

Note: Apologies for the business-like writing blah blah with matching "timings", getting asked to type 124567890 memos a day does that to your blogging skills.

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