I just broke my shoe because of a can of soup and if you used a feed reader you will see the bizarre half title that got posted only because I can't type for crap. I just had to call Matt and tell him our night's plans have to shift because I'm not really into walking the length and breadth of shaws to get on sale ice cream and yogurt in broken shoes. I love that I can say something as crazy as "blah blah blah because the soup broke my shoes" and he just says "oh, ok". I'm secretly hoping that some day in the far far future he brings out this list of random shit I've said and asks "how did the soup break your shoe exactly?".
Meanwhile, my damn shoe is broken. I'm pissed about it even though they're too big and over five years old. They're expensive ass Danskos and I would have worn them forever, too big or not. I have the hardest time saying goodbye to shoes, even when they're broken and don't fit. I would have thought I'd feel justified in some online shoe shopping but I'm more sad. Maybe tomorrow.