I'm depressed.

You know how sometimes really stupid things can set you off, and just ruin everything? That's where I am now.

Because of a pair of shoes.

Now, shoes are not stupid things. Shoes are incredibly important things. The stupidity here is from me, because I should have expected it.

Every August and, oh, April or something, we get the new Next catalogue. Next is a sort-of-department store; or rather, it is a department store, but with much less selection. For example, they might offer a sort of cool top in blue. And only in blue. There are no choices of colors. Same with shoes. If you like those brown boots, don't bother looking for black, because they don't have them. So it's more like a boutique.

I generally dislike just about everything Next has to offer. The clothes are frumpy for the most part--lots of ruffly calf-length skirts, which swim on someone petite like me, lots of thick horizontally-striped sweaters, lots of shoes with thick low heels--or too fussy. A top I would otherwise like is in the wrong color, say, or has beading at the shoulders that ruins it. Next clothes are like the woman wearing just a little too much jewelry; had she just taken one piece off, it would have been fine.

But we get the catalogues anyway, because I like catalogues. And I do occasionally see something I like. The other day I ordered a pair of black skinny jeans, because I am having an incredibly difficult time finding them in any stores, anywhere. And they sometimes have, like, three- or four-packs of tops for the girls at decent prices, and I'll order those.

Anyway. The catalogue came a while back, and I flipped through it and found the most adorable pair of shoes. Seriously. Adorable. I fell in total instant lust.

And--here's the stupid part--I thought "I better order those now." And I didn't. I just didn't get around to it.

So the other night I placed an order. Some pajamas for the girls. The aforementioned skinny jeans. And I went to order the shoes.


Yes, I know. For whatever reason, supplies at Next sell out. They order a certain number and that's it; they can't be bothered to provide any actual Customer Service and, you know, call the manufacturer and place another order, seeing as how the catalogue only arrived five or six weeks ago and it's supposed to be good until spring of next year. (A further example of their stunning Customer Service is that the items I ordered were supposed to be delivered today by 1 pm; it's quarter to three and no sign of my stuff. Typical.)

So I am angry, and irritated, and depressed. I wanted those shoes. I had two whole outfits planned specifically around those shoes. And it's not worth it to try going to some Next stores, because the physical stores are typically the size of my bedroom and contain a few sad sale items and some broken sunglasses, and that's about it. (Of course having said that I'm probably going to try anyway.)

So there you go. It's just turning into one of those weeks, for one reason or another, and the shoes are the final straw.



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