Because I was extremely nauseated by the image of that gigantic rat who stole an apple from my sweet little bunnies, the only cure that works for me is some retail therapy.
I combined a visit to my fave consignment shop with a stop to buy rat traps which my kind neighbor offered to set for me because I don’t know how. (And yes, I comprehend the hypocrisy that me, an animal defender and protector–is going to kill them. We simply cannot coexist.)
I needed the soothing activity of strolling up and down every aisle to look at and touch different fabrics and textures and styles; attempts to lay down fresh neurons so I didn’t replay the horror of our local rat infestation due in large part to more land rape here in Carlsbad. This is something lots of the community is suffering from–more rats than we’ve ever experienced. In fact, I will probably address this issue at a future city council meeting. It’s that bad.
Back to the calm of a mindful redirect…
As I chatted with the owner, my eyes spotted a bit of gold in a box on the counter. (I’m such a magpie.) Further examination revealed a pair of PRADA heels and I asked what size they were. She said they had just come in and she wasn’t sure, but I could try them on and tell her.
So I did and it was a Cinderella moment. They fit perfectly.
Even with a healing broken bone in my foot, I knew I had to have them. I just knew.
If they had ever been worn at all, it was only once or twice and never outdoors. They looked brand new.
Here are my vintage (2008 season) Prada black suede pumps with bands of gold. Research revealed they were originally sold with an elaborate ankle accessory which I never would have worn anyway. I’ll have to wait to wear them until I’m no longer limping, but that doesn’t matter to me, not at all.
Not bad for forty dollars, right? And I can look at them and it helps to erase the rat visions in my brain. It’s not easy to photograph shoes; I did the best I could.