The only law I like to follow is Murphy’s. In that vein, last Friday I got my toes all spiffed up and polished with a friend of mine. I sat there on that massage chair while some poor woman cleaned and scrubbed and buffed my feet perfect. I chose the color, “Senorita Rose-alita.” It’s a dark pink with a little sparkle, a perfect way to usher in spring.

My feet you see, have been having spring fever in that my closed toed shoes were causing them to sweat and thus perfume the air around me with a discusting-clear-the-room odor. A foot-peeling extravaganza was in order and I couldn’t wait for the spring shoes, the open toedness, to begin. My friend and I even walked around a grocery store with those pedicure fake flip-flops, and you know how hard it is to walk in those stupid things.

So, it’s Tuesday and I have yet to wear open toed shoes this week because it have been 40°F in the morning. I can’t walk out of the house with my feet FREEZING. Stupid weather, stupid toes, stupid Murphy.

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