The Angels Want to Wear My Red Shoes

I promise, this is not going to turn into a shoe blog. But rainy days just haven’t been the same since I got rubber boots.

Mostly, I’m just consistently amazed that my actions have no consequences. Last week it was thirty-eight degrees, alternating rain and hail, and I spent a half hour traipsing in the park near my apartment, running down hills and plowing through puddles. Nothing happened. No wetness, no dirt, no icy death seeping into these feet that take five days to warm up again; I was fucking unstoppable.

The forecast says nonstop rain for the next three days. Bring it, Boston.

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  1. You can totally rock the black rubber boots. Isn’t that allowed?

    Also, since when do you care what’s allowed?

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