Wednesday, October 21, 2009

These Boots are Made for Puddle Jumping

My coworkers tease me about creating a Megan Indicator for the economy. In general, it works this way: the more shipments of goods that arrive at the office for me, the worse the economy is.

Today, I received a beautiful pair of orange Hunter wellies. Do you know what wellies are? Some synonyms are gum-boots, rubbers, and galoshes. Now do you know what they are?

They're absolutely wonderful, is what they are.

Unless you have to drive. Then you must take them off.

I've always had Wellies that cut off about mid-calf or even lower (rubber ankle-boots, essentially). My Hunters stop about three inches shy of my knees. They're more rigid than my previous and dear departed wellies, which means that I can't flex my foot enough to drive in them. Hopefully, they'll get more flexible as I wear them, but I had to pull my car over to take them off for fear of rear-ending one of the Mercedes in my neighborhood or taking out the cute guy that keeps looking at the condo for sale on my block (hello, prospective neighbor!).

And we don't want to take out the cute guy. Unless it's to dinner.

I actually made a point of going out in the rain just so I could wear my new boots. I went to the grocery store, and I went to Crate & Barrel. I simply have to have a ladle now. I can't live without one another day. Ooh! And I can't live without some of that fancy glass tupper-ware I've been hankering after, either.

So I got to get out and stomp around in my big orange boots whilst wearing a scarf, and I felt very chic. Secretly, however, I was longing for the company of he who wears Wellies best, a.k.a. Andrew Bird.

We could totally bond over our mutual love of Wellies.

It's a match made in heaven.

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