So George stayed home sick today, and I wasn't hungry for lunch, so I decided to check out this store around the corner called DSW. Have you heard of it? I've never been in DSW before. Ohhhh, what I have been missing. Imelda Marcos would have a seizure and die, right on the spot, at the sheer joy of this shoe store. Designer shoes (Miu Miu, anyone??) and casual shoes, and shoes on clearance, and heels, and flats, and sandals, and sneakers, and loafers, and boots, oh MY!! As is required of any and all humans in possession of a buh-jina, I was salivating as I walked up and down the aisles, caressing shoe after shoe after shoe. I smiled at them. I flirted with them. I batted my eyelashes in their general direction. I imagined parties I could wear this or that shoe to (never mind that I NEVER go to parties, or leave my house even) but I was all SORTS of planning to go to some! I was half-way into the 4th or 5th aisle, and I noticed a woman trying on a pair of shoes. I did not know this woman. And yet...I was unable to restrain myself from walking up to her, waving my hands all wild and giggled like a 6 year old in a Willy Wonka candy store, and said "Heeee-Heeeee-HEEEEE! There's juuuussss so MAAAANY!!!!" and people? I clapped. CLAPPED. Yeah, she laughed at me. Of COURSE she did. But I could see in her eyes that she felt the Same. Way. How could you not?

I need to never be allowed inside DSW again.

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