We honestly can’t help ourselves. Or at least I can’t. I have 48 pairs of shoes. They all sit on the floor of my closet in neat rows. I love them all. I also love chocolate and books and tea. I usually choose the least logical explanation available to me (Elevator doors open and close with no one getting in or out? Clearly it’s haunted), fall down a lot (although I don’t think it’s my fault so many floors are uneven), and I lose things a lot (which reminds me, I need to find my remote, camera, cell phone charger, and favorite pink nail polish). I attempt to make sense, though I don’t always succeed. And did I mention that I love shoes?
