busting out

You can tell that it's almost spring because all of my socks are suddenly developing change-of-season holes. I am not a shoe-wearer by nature. People talk about women and their obsessions with shoes, but I can totally not relate. I think I might own only a handful of shoes, though I've never really counted. Bags, however, are another story, if only because I've recently started making my own.

I'm not sure why I never got stuck with the shoe affliction. Maybe it was part of my oh-so-casual workplace a few years ago, where I wandered around in only my socks, or my self-enforced no-shoe policy at every subsequent place I've worked. Maybe it was due in part to growing up dancing, where you don't wear shoes so much as slippers, or maybe it was just my longing to always feel the grass & sand between my toes, instead of poking into my sandals. In any case, I am not a shoe-liker.

Which is why I'm glad it's almost spring. I am looking so forward to wandering around the house, and around everywhere else, including the soccer pitch, in my bare feet. I am also looking forward to not noticing my toes sticking out of my socks. Even my favourite orange kneesocks are wearing thin. Ack!