divine angst

Himself is a funny guy. He is totally unfazed by the super-loud neighbors (I should say “was” since those guys are long moved out). He barely reacts to the train going by. He doesn’t seem to mind how loud our floors are (squeaky AND clicky-clacky from shoes).

But one thing he does freak out about: whenever I go into the lower cabinets to get my big saute pan out, he runs out of the kitchen. And then he stands about four feet out of the kitchen, watching me, while I pull out the pan (or lid or whatever). I don’t know if it’s the noise, but he doesn’t seem to react until the pans make noise, not when I just open the cabinet door.

So he’s a strange fellow, Himself is. Absolutely adorable. But a strange fellow.

I had a dream about shoes.

Basically, I had all these shoes that I don’t actually own–shiny green patent leather ankle boots, camel leather oxfords, something in a pretty matte red–and for some reason, my having these shoes was going to save the day. (I don’t remember the actual context of the dream.)

So how appropriate is it that the first email I saw this morning after getting up was from Banana Republic, with prominently featured shoes?

I may have to go buy some shoes.