I am preparing for my big trip to London. I get so excited to travel. It is great to go to a place where I don't know where anything is. Despite the work, and at times confusion, there is a great sense of accomplishment in finding your hotel room, that restaurant you heard about, or the museum on the list of to-dos. It is so different from life here, in Colorado Springs, where my biggest challenge is remembering the difference between Stetson Hills and Barnes and all of the cul-de-sacs beyond the Powers boundary.
Today my travel partner and I met over coffee and did some trip planning. Afterward, we headed to DSW the "shoe warehouse." The shoe store with literally hundreds of shoes. First stop, clearance rack... I find a pair of lime green shoes, and while they're comfortable I know their uniqueness will wear out sooner than their soles. I search through trendy tennis shoesish styles...I try some on. I am wearing the wrong socks. Maybe my toes have gotten fat or swollen. My ankles are tiny and won't keep the darned things on. It is a fruitless search. There is something disturbing about sitting in a shoe warehouse, surrounded with aisles of footwear and coming to the conclusion, " I have nothing to work with here!" I have 11 days to find a trendy pair of comfortable, flat-foot-supporting, ideally black walking shoes. Oh the pressure.
Which leads me to the wardrobe I need to be the perfect hip traveler, and accessories, and a bag, and hat and what-if-the-sun-shines-sunglasses... and...
I keep reminding myself that money I spend here in preparation is money I will not have when I am there. It is little consolation.
Today my travel partner and I met over coffee and did some trip planning. Afterward, we headed to DSW the "shoe warehouse." The shoe store with literally hundreds of shoes. First stop, clearance rack... I find a pair of lime green shoes, and while they're comfortable I know their uniqueness will wear out sooner than their soles. I search through trendy tennis shoesish styles...I try some on. I am wearing the wrong socks. Maybe my toes have gotten fat or swollen. My ankles are tiny and won't keep the darned things on. It is a fruitless search. There is something disturbing about sitting in a shoe warehouse, surrounded with aisles of footwear and coming to the conclusion, " I have nothing to work with here!" I have 11 days to find a trendy pair of comfortable, flat-foot-supporting, ideally black walking shoes. Oh the pressure.
Which leads me to the wardrobe I need to be the perfect hip traveler, and accessories, and a bag, and hat and what-if-the-sun-shines-sunglasses... and...
I keep reminding myself that money I spend here in preparation is money I will not have when I am there. It is little consolation.
No comments:
Post a Comment