In which she misses old shoes

Sometimes I miss old clothes, too, especially the ones that have disappeared. Oh, that black cotton shirt with the empire band, those jeans from the Gap, that long-sleeved brown dress.

But shoes are worse.

Some of my shoes were stolen, once, but those I've gotten over. The black heels were incredibly cute and so easy to dance in, yes, but that's okay. Lately I'm missing a pair of boots. Suede boots. Grey. Slouched. Little silver trim on them. Cowboy boots. Late '80s.

I think I was six.

It's kind of hitting me now, getting older and wiser and working in an office, that I haven't usually bought my own clothes. And for that matter, I don't buy that much in the way of clothes. I hit secondhand stores, big sales, eBay for the perfect jeans. But I don't buy new sweaters. Or socks. The things I actually wear all the time.

I need to shop a little, but I don't want to. Clothes I like; spending money I do not.

It's that kind of daydreamy day.