Toeture

Starting some time last November, I began a love affair.

A love affair with the Cole Haan Air Carma Tortoise Patent Pump. I wanted them. I needed them. I had to have them. Alas, the $350+ price tag was a little out of my league. You know...in "these economic times" and all. So I did the only thing I COULD do.

I put them on my Christmas list. And hoped my mom...er, Santa, would get them for me.

Santa came up short.

The holidays came and went, and I tried to find a way to make a life without them. As the weeks passed, I thought about them less and less, Googling them once or twice a week just to see if they'd happened to go on sale. Occasionally I'd find them marked down on someplace like Zappos, and I'd eagerly add them to my shopping cart, only to find my size out of stock (those freaks out there who wear size 5's and 11's have ALL the luck).

It was torture.

So imagine my surprise...my absolute DELIGHT, when my mother (my wonderful, wonderful mother) emailed me at work to tell me there was a HUGE shoe sale going on at Dillards, and she had found those very Cole Haan pumps from my Christmas list on clearance in a size 8. For FIFTY DOLLARS!!!!!!

And so she decided to put me out of my misery. She bought them and brought them to me straight away.

Just one catch.

I can't wear them. Or I guess I should say...I can't wear BOTH of them.

Broken toe, remember?

THE HUMANITY!

And so now I must wait. Wait for my toe to heal. Wait for for my orthopedic check-up two weeks from now to find out when I can remove this "ortho boot" and graduate to some sort of clown shoe. And then begin the slow but steady process of working my way back up to a up to a pinched little toe-box and a three-inch heel. Which, as I sit here elevating and icing my bruised and taped digits, seems far away indeed.

Now THAT is what I call torture.

Or is it...toeture?