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.
Rock you like a hurricane.
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.
April 22nd, 2007 at 12:50 pm
I am so jealous. Men totally are not allowed into the most practical of all noreaster-fighting boots.
April 23rd, 2007 at 10:49 pm
You can totally rock the black rubber boots. Isn’t that allowed?
Also, since when do you care what’s allowed?
April 25th, 2007 at 3:33 pm
I think you could do the black rubber boots, Mr. Urving use to.
February 26th, 2009 at 11:33 pm
[...] as I form emotional attachments to them the longer they’re around. Ah well! Out with the old! In with the [...]