Shoes Never Sleeps.
My Darling Shoes,
Hey girl. I know you had a tumultuous summer. Seems like your old roommate and DogShoes have moved out, and it's you and RoomieShoes. I was mistaken in thinking BoyfriendShoes moved in - no, he's just coming by every day and adding his clompy shoes to the cacophonous noise.
So this weekend was a wild one for you, eh? We heard you guys come home at 1:40 am. No problem there. It's a Saturday night and going out for a few drinks and having some fun? Go for it. Been there. Still there, actually.
At 4:48 am, I woke up with a start at the sound of Faith Hill being blasted through the ceiling. It was like the speakers were up to eleven and directed at my face. Shoes, this is not cool. First of all, you are blasting music at my bedroom at 4:48 in the morning. I was asleep, did you know that? Secondly, you and RoomieShoes and BoyfriendShoes and Other Pals were apparently dropping blocks of ice against the floor, judging by the deafening noise. Was this really necessary? Were you out of ice cubes and absolutely needed to have cold drinks? And thirdly - come on, Faith Hill? This is what you choose to blast?
Chris and I sat in bed for a bit, staring at the ceiling and wondering what exactly was up with you. I brought my hand up to my eyes and rubbed them, then shook a sleepy fist at the ceiling. "Shooooooooes!" You responded by tap dancing inside your bathtub while wearing coffee cans on your feet.
Shoes, we moved out to the living room and set up our blankets there. We could still hear your stereo (now booming some obscure rap song from the 80's), but at least it wasn't throbbing over our heads. "Maybe we can fall back asleep out here," I said to Chris, just as you and RoomieShoes decided to run giggling from one side of the apartment to the other, throwing rocks at the floor. Mind you, it's now almost 5:45 in the morning. And I'm sleepy.
I'm kind of starting to hate you, Shoes. I see your car and I want to peek in and see if it's crammed with boxes of stilettos and coupons for the ice factory. I don't care if you're partying. Seriously. Don't care at all. But 6 am? You still haven't taken off your heels? Don't your feet hurt, dear Shoes? Maybe you need a pair of bunny slippers to help ease your tired feet. I know I would be happy to pick you up a pair. Would you prefer pink or white? Just let me know.
And you know what? I almost miss DogShoes. At least he slept from time to time.