"If you were to ask me what's under my bed, I'd tell you shoes. They're brown, and they're still attached to the body that's been decomposing there since I hid it three days ago."
This Book Is Not For Sale
Finally... we arrive at Friday. It's been a long week, and at the same time, the last 3 weeks have flown by. Time is a strange thing isn't it? Alan went back to work yesterday, and slowly, but surely, I am returning to something resembling my life prior to the big reveal that I have been living in an illegal apartment for 14 years...well, it will be 14 years on May 2nd. I still plan to celebrate it, as I have done each year since we moved it. It is my place of safety, my comfort, and while there is now some tragedy attached to all the memories we made here, there are still some moments of great joy that I will never erase from my memories. Like the day we brought Hendrix home. After Elvis's death, it was so quiet in here but along came that little force of nature, Hendrix, and he helped Alan and I through our grief.
It's an odd thing... I keep finding pairs of shoes in different parking lots throughout the East Bay. This the fourth pair I have found since the beginning of the year! Is it the Year Of The Shoe? I thought every year was the Year Of The Shoe. LOL. I just packed 3 boxes with nothing but shoes. Boots. Flats. Canvas Deck Shoes. A pair of tennis shoes that used to belong to Alissa Milano I bought of eBay. LOL. Yep, I am one of those girls. I like shoes. I think you can tell a lot about a person by the kind of shoes they wear. Take the
man criminal who I used to call Mr. Landlord... he wore some expensive brown leather shoes, that were strangely scuffed. I always found that a curiosity. Of course now I see that he probably scuffed them while trying to wade through his own bullshit. It's not easy being a brown heel I suppose.