Infamous Silver Shoes in SohoI am not one to loathe people, ideas, things. But I loathe a little something called packing. This is why in the past I have been known to pack drunk. I don't suggest this at all. However, I find that in life you've got to figure out for yourself how to get things done. The last packing job I did was terrible. I packed t-shirts (for MN weather) and two pairs of pants. I packed some cute dresses that were not worn on said trip. This time though things have changed. This time I am leaving for awhile and it is a grave matter. This time I am packing in a staggeringly sober state of mind and body. Perhaps I am turning over a new leaf.
I think the thing that irritates me the most about all of this is that every article of clothing, every pair of shoes, every picture reminds me of my time here in New York. I am all for nostalgia. In fact, I dwell in it to the point of concern. I threw away the gold sandals that carried me through the streets of Florence. I threw away the painful recital shoes. But there were some that I cannot part with...yet. I cannot part with the silver snake skin pumps that are peeling, or shedding. I wore those shoes all over Manhattan. Some people can't get rid of past relationships, embarrassing moments, movie stubs. I can't get rid of shoes. If that makes me a shallow person I am diving right in.
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