It’s hard to walk in my front door because packages are strewn all over our entryway (which, incidentally, is a nice justification for a mudroom). Anyway, half of the packages are holiday-related gifts from our family out of town.
The other half?
Welcome to my not-successful coping strategy:
It started Friday night, when everyone was asleep, and I was terrified that I would get sucked into the news. I never turned on the TV, but horrible news and images were just a click away as I worked on-line.
I said to myself, “you can look at anything in the world on-line right now– baby chimps, gay porn, Cher music videos– but stay away from the news.” (I imposed this because I have a tendency toward the morbid and have a long history of ingesting tragedy to the point that I make myself sick.)
Do you think I sought out cute animals sneezing or nuzzling their furry mamas?
Do you think I checked out porn that would make even the depraved Twittersphere blush?
No and No.
I got myself busy and distracted on Zappos (which is a kind of porn, amiright?).
People, I don’t need anything, much less another damn pair of shoes. I’ll have you know that I bought a perfectly good (rubber) pair of cowboy boots and faux suede booties at Target just last month. I probably didn’t need either of those, but their combined price was less than $40.00 and hey, I was worth it.
So, explain to me why I just ordered a pair of Frye boots from Zappos? WTF. I don’t actually believe in spending over $210.00 for boots– not saying it’s wrong, just saying I never have and don’t think it’s necessary for me.
For those of you who don’t live in Colorado or know what Frye boots are, they are boots that start at about $300 and go up from there. They are seductive in that they come in a dozen shades of distressed, Indiana Jones-looking leather and they are a shoe that should be worn by a total bad ass.
Which is precisely why I will be returning them without opening them. I don’t even want to see my clumsy ass legs stuck into them. It was an impulse purchase of the highest order. I bought them to make it all seem less scary. “Hey, if I get these boots nothing bad could be happening anywhere because, did you see my new boots?” The logic makes as much sense as eating Little Debbie brownies right before a Weight Watchers weigh-in, and frankly, I’ve done that too.
The boots won’t make me safer or even cooler. (There’s something infinitely more hip about wearing rubber boots from the Target clearance aisle.) It was a strategy to get through a scary, lonely night. I guess it worked– I made it through the night without reading a single headline. But now I have to schlep that giant box to the post office, which is a huge pain in the ass.
And the world is the same place it was Friday night.
What have you tried? Is it working?