It has been raining here a lot this fall. I take my child to school and come home cursing the people who make jeans. Why are they so bleeping long? I am five foot six inches tall. I am not a short person. I am, in fact, average. Why is it so difficult to purchase a pair of jeans in a reasonable length? Is that too much to ask? Apparently.
My solution was to order some super-cute rain boots from Target. I needed them. I wanted to wage war on wet jeans. And, yes, I know I could have them hemmed or hem them myself. Who does that? I guarantee I would be walking around with some jankity ass shit. Instead I walk around in soaking wet jeans. Pick your poison my friends, all in the name of fashion. I am so stylish, a regular fashion icon, I am. If by style you mean too long jeans and Converse sneakers, a touch of makeup and crazy-ass hair. If yes, then, we are probably soul mates.
So on Sunday, I devoted a stretch of time, while enjoying my morning coffee, made especially for me, by Bread, complete with hazelnut cream frothed by the glorious IKEA milk frother. What? Jealous? Your husband doesn’t make you coffee on Sunday, sorry. Mine does because he effing rocks. Nah, Nah, Nah. My husband is better than yours!
I just really wanted to paint the picture of me, my coffee and the Internet machine. I am moving on here. So, I scoured Target for probably several hours. This is after my trip to Target on Friday and before my trip, that very day, with a friend. Ahem. I am not an addict. I just appreciate a good deal. And, I like to shop. And, I ran out of dry shampoo. Hell hath no fury like a woman with greasy roots.
There were so many choices to be made regarding the print of the boot. I mean, as things are going I will be wearing them every day! It will never stop raining. I will be trapped in my home with the animals unless I build an ark! Yes! Yes! I need tools and supplies! I know what I will be researching this Sunday morning! Target for supplies and Google for a blueprint! And then Google again for someone who can, indeed, read a blueprint…Never mind, it turns out Bread can read a blueprint.
I finally settled on this pair. Bread said no more plaid but I totally wanted these. The bastard shot me down. But, then I was distracted by this pair listed somewhere on the page as something else I might like! Oh! I do! I do! Low and behold I have been searching far and wide for a good knock-off pair of Frye boots. I cannot spend that kind of money on a lone pair of shoes. I would probably wear the shit out of them and get my money’s worth but I just couldn’t do it. I want my child to go to college some day and so does she, actually. When quizzed about what she will be studying while attending college, my child responds with either, “I will learn how to be a princess,” or “mermaid.” Ha! Sister, you need no degree to be a princess. What you need is a damn sugar daddy! I have so much to teach her.
So, Bread, as he always does, convinced me to purchase both pair! Free shipping on orders over $50 and the rain boots were only $20! God bless that man. Did I mention he stopped at MAC to purchase me some of my favorite lip gloss one day after work? Yes, he totally did because I tried to buy it at Macy’s on Sunday and they were out. I have been out for a year but reluctant to purchase more because of the price. Maybelline is only like $3 if you have a coupon! Finally, after going a through a million that just weren’t up to par, I decided to bite the bullet and buy the real thing. I deserve it! I clip coupons! They were out. I figured that was a message from the gods telling me not to spend money on that shit. Bread said he knew it was because he was supposed to get it for me as a token of his affection. It worked. I melted. I mean, the color is fabulous. It’s like someone looked at my lips, said, I shall make this color for you and did. I swear. Get some. My husband bought me lip gloss on a whim! Nah, nah, nah.
So, I have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of said boots. I have been stalking the Internet for their arrival date. Yesterday, I had a million errands to run. One of them was to go to the Croc store and buy some of their hideously ugly and unstylish shoes to wear inside for slippers (I apologize if you do, indeed, wear Crocs). We have zero carpeting in our home. I am constantly freezing in the winter. Our kitchen floor is ceramic. It’s cold and it’s hard (ha, ha, that’s what she said). If I just wear slippers I get sore if I’m in there all day cooking and cleaning and doing whatever the hell it is I do. My legs hurt. I am elderly. I probably have liver spots just dying to come to the surface or something. Bread (again, my husband, the genius, kind, wonderful person that he is) suggested I get some Crocs. After a couple days with throbbing knees and shin splints, I decided yesterday was the day.
I felt like such a loser for having to buy them. I was cursing myself all the way home. By the way, have I mentioned my self-loathing is at an all-time high? I mean, who really cares? But for some reason it really bothered me to have to make this purchase. I want to spend my money on cool things like boots and college and shiny lip gloss. Buying Crocs in order to protect my aging bones, in my eyes, is just slightly above purchasing support hose (again, I apologize if you rock, because I am sure you do rock, the support hose).
Upon my arrival home, I show off my purchase to Bread who proclaims how cool those Crocs are. He is a liar but I love him for it. He even tried them on in order to profess their level of comfort. He then informs me I have a package from Target. Wait. Question: why is receiving a shipment, you ordered and paid for so exciting? You know it is coming. You know what is inside. You paid somebody’s hard earned money for it. Why? Anyway, my package arrived and holy mother of you-know-who! I love those boots! They look expensive; what a fabulous knock-off! This may be the best $35 I ever spent! I am a genius! I need to give myself more credit! I am not some frumpy mother with pink, faux-fur lined plastic shoes! Gump! I am a God-damned genius! I sent pictures to some stylish friends for approval. I won. Score one for Jessie Domestic.
And the moral of the story is: does anyone really care about your boots? No. Did you have fun writing about them? Yes. Score two for Jessie Domestic.
