I got spoiled from June to February. While painting away my life on watercolor paper and ceilings, I somehow forgot that it’s normal to wear real shoes. I have a great pair of flip flops and some warm slipper-like boots. Who needs dainty, attractive shoes when you’re practically barefoot all the time?

But it is nice to click around in heels once in a while.

Enter job.

Now I find myself in real shoes five out of seven days, and it’s kind of a shock to the system. I don’t remember work shoes being restrictive. But they kind of are. How could I forget something like that?

Here’s one of my favorite pairs of cute shoes:

I think they’re worth some toe-smushing. I just hope my feet will conform to nice little work shoe triangles again. I think that’s how this works, right?

P.S. The bruise on my shin is from a ski trip. A ski trip during which I successfully navigated my very first black diamond slope. Without falling. Just thought I’d brag about that, since it’ll probably never happen again.