You mean it? Really? Thanks for the green light, I guess.

But, come on, what’s up? First, I get the fortune, then an email from zappos offering me $25 off my next purchase. Clearly, strange forces are at work or a divine intervention is underway, something weird is happening. And, frankly, I’m scared. A thumbs up for shoe shopping? Call me an alarmist if you want, but something’s not right.

My computer’s on its last legs. The car needs tires. I like lunch. And I’m being encouraged to buy shoes. What’s the catch here? Am I being punked? Come on, tell me. Fine, keep it to yourself. But I’ll watch my back in case the sky is falling.

I decided to put the kibosh on posh, impractical shoes. Spike heels and strappy sandals and darling little flats won’t do in an apocalyptic event. So I bought a pair of Chuck Taylors. Yup, the old Converse All Stars. When the world starts crashing down around me I can run like the wind, clamber over rubble and debris with nary a scratch. Those bad boys have some serious tread. Not as good as Doc Martens, but good and lightweight.

Breaking them in might be a nuisance, but just getting to say ‘new shoes’ makes it worthwhile. I love using words with the oo sound — shoes, tune, goofy, stupid, new. They sound whimsical. So I’ll walk around in my spiffy new Chucks and tell everyone, ‘See my new shoes?’ ‘I got new shoes.’ Do you like my new shoes?’ ‘My new shoes came this morning.’

People will try ignore me. Then avoid me. Then run when they see me coming. Good, I’ll have an excuse to chase after them in my brand new Chucks.

beep-beep, new shoes coming through.

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