I Really Can’t Explain How All The Shoes Happened

I just made a “no circulars please” sign for my letterbox. Except somehow it turned out more like this: no circularsplease. Like I have been subject to torture by circulars and am begging for release. This is almost true, actually. I feel sometimes like I am drowning in circulars here. Given that I now live in the middle of nowhere, you’d think I’d get less circulars than I did when I was in the middle of the city, but the opposite is true. Do they think we have nothing better to do with our time out here than pour over catalogues and plan all our prospective purchases? Actually, I said that in sarcasm, but as I typed it I realised that it was probably true. Not so much the pouring over, but most of the people who live out here are farmers and orcharders who probably only get into the city once a week, and so who probably do want to plan their purchases rather than wandering aimlessly one they get to the city. Which would explain all the damned circulars. It’s not such a problem for me, however, with all my gadabout ways, and so I am stopping the torrential flow of circulars into my home.

I have been cleaning my house (picking up an entire supermarket bag full of circulars as I went) (I’m not such a hideous slob, I’m just illustrating how many of the damned things I get – that was about a week’s worth). It’s Spring and my house is beautiful, so I thought I should get my act together and get things a bit tidy and organised. Books in shelves, clothes on hangers, floor vacuumed and all that. There seemed to be a lot of shoes floating about my lounge, so I came up with a cunning plan to clean up the garage (which, due to the odd design of my odd house, must be walked through to get to the main part of the house) and line up all my shoes outside the door which leads from the garage to my lounge. Somehow when I did this, however, they ended up taking up one whole wall of the garage. A long line of shiny black shoes, neatly in a row. I had no idea I owned that many pairs of shoes, and frankly I am shocked. Especially considering that these are only the shoes I wear regularly. My multiple pairs of special occasion shoes are tucked away in my wardrobe. Anyway, seeing them all neatly in a row there made me feel like I’d become obsessive compulsive, and I really couldn’t handle that. I came to an excellent compromise of bundling them into a messy pile in the garage – so they are neither obsessive compulsive, nor cluttering up my lounge.

I’d like to think I had something interesting to say in this entry, but it transpires that I don’t. Instead, have a picture of part of my backyard, and feel the envy.