Monday, May 9, 2011


Mary Clare and I ran errands on Saturday morning while Chip knocked even more items off the rapidly shrinking (!) to do list.

As I packed up the diaper bag so Miss M and I could be on our merry way, Chip glanced down at my flat-shod feet and said, "I'm sorry, but that's just not right. And it can't feel good."

Sure enough, my feet runneth over the flats. It didn't feel bad, but it certainly didn't look good. Back upstairs I went -- with minimal huffing, I might add -- in search of a wider pair of flats. Which looked better and met Chip's approval.

So thank you, Old Navy, for your poorly constructed ballet flats with flimsy sides and superior stretching potential. You are the only reason Chip let me out of the house on Saturday.

1 comment:

  1. I was productive on Saturday as well; I went to Jennifer's Pharmacy in Clayton and got an old-fashioned Egg Cream (which has neither egg nor cream, making the name as meaningful as DHB's BC "degree") and then went to Golf Galaxy for some socks. Being single is so difficult.


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