The gold sandals and I end with a rainbow

I realize at this point I have basically complained for two days about my sore knees and my neck and my bursitis.

Not really about the bursitis, but only because I don’t have it. Otherwise you would have totally heard about that too.

So maybe it’s time to bore you with other meaningless details of life around here this week.

We finally finished the playroom yesterday. I mean we still have to put bedding on the beds and a few other little details, but the painting/sanding/cussing like a sailor/staining portion of the job is complete. All said and done it took us about a week and didn’t even require any marriage counseling. Even though there was one dark moment when P told me something wasn’t 133 inches but 132 7/8 and my eyes may have rolled out of my head.

Anyway, I’ve spent the last two days catching up on all the other things I’ve neglected during this project. First on the list was taking Caroline to get new soccer cleats after school. Her foot always decides to have a growth spurt right before the last game of the soccer season which is terribly convenient and expensive. Especially since she’s inherited P’s narrow feet with high arches.

That’s one of the things you forget to pray for when you’re pregnant. That your child will inherit your feet that can wear virtually any shoes without any problems whatsoever instead of needing shoes made of dragonfly wings that have been hand-cobbled by elves.

We went to the Soccer Factory and found a pair of cleats. The whole process was pretty painless and I guess filled me with optimism so I suggested we stop by MJM Shoes to see if we could find her a nice pair of sandals. Not to mention I had two pairs I needed to return that she’d rejected a few days earlier because they were “too blergh”.

(No. I don’t really know what that means either. But rest assured it’s not good.)

So I returned the rejected sandals made by the devil while she looked around to see if there was anything that caught her eye. She tried on several pair that she immediately declared, “SO UNCOMFORTABLE. THIS IS THE WORST THING I’VE EVER HAD ON MY FEET” until she finally tried these and decided they were perfect.

They are from the Mr. T shoe collection. I pity the fool that looks directly at them in the sunlight.

Because as shiny and gold as they look in that picture? Multiply it by the number of times I have seen Coal Miner’s Daughter.

But I’m claiming them as a win because they aren’t cleats or Converse high tops or rubber flip-flops.

Then yesterday I’d planned to go to Smart Barre after I dropped Caroline off at school. But we overslept and by the time I got her to school I decided I just didn’t have a workout in me. So I got a taquito at Whataburger instead and then ran errands in search of exciting things like an eight foot white extension cord, an oscillating fan, and a large basket to hold Caroline’s Wii games and accessories.

It was all terribly glamorous.

And, ultimately, my errands led me to The Container Store to find these cable twister things to organize the cords in the playroom.

(Did you just die of boredom? Because I just re-read part of this and jagkljl;kdjhdfzhn)

(Sorry. I dozed off.)

I also happened to see this jewelry organizer thing and bought it in a fit of unbridled optimism. And then I walked around the rest of the store for a few more minutes before I felt utterly defeated and lost my will to live.

It’s time that I accept organization is not my gift.

I’d show you a picture of the inside of my desk drawer but it would cause you to need therapy and I can’t do that to you.

However, I did have a moment of triumph this afternoon. For months I’ve been pinning all manner of bookshelves on Pinterest where the books were organized according to color. Frankly, it’s bordered on an obsession. And I kept telling myself that I was going to do that on the bookshelves above the desk in our kitchen.

Then I’d get distracted and sit on the couch for six hours watching Season 1 of Call the Midwife and forget about the bookshelves in lieu of trying to figure out if I can wear red lipstick.

But yesterday I took the bull by the horns or the books by the spine or whatever and took them all off the shelves, sorted them by color and put them back in my own version of rainbow organization.

It was like I’d just climbed my own personal Mount Everest. And I love it.

You know who’s not going to love it?

P.

There is no semblance of order. There are no categories. There’s no distinguishing between his books and my books. Now if he wants to find any of his books easily he’s going to have to remember what color they are.

What are the chances he’s not going to appreciate my love of form over function?

I’m guessing 132 7/8 percent.

And now I want to make a joke about finding Caroline’s new gold sandals at the end of my new book rainbow.