Fancy's Bootstraps

So back to my story. 2.5 hours of therapy. That’s right, Fancy Therapist actually cleared his calendar for the morning. That’s what kind of attention H gets when we can actually drag him, kicking and screaming, into FT’s office.

I really don’t know why he fights it. He always comes out such a nicer husband.

Anyway, I have to tell you, I learned a lot in those two and a half hours. Yes, and now I’d like to share with you what I feel was the most important lesson gleaned from half a day on a leather sofa. Are you ready?

Apparently Fancy here should be wearing black stiletto boots at all times.

Yes. It’s true. At least when my husband is in the room.

I really had no idea. And what is worse is that ever since the Fancy Clean Out, H has been suffering in silence. I guess when I threw out my old pleather boots and failed to replace them, I did horrible damage to our marriage. Never mind that they were terribly uncomfortable. Or that I was just waiting for the Fall sales to replace them.

No, it seems that standing or walking isn’t the priority. And as FT aptly pointed out, I’m in a very fortunate position to be able to buy myself as many pairs of black boots as I possibly can stuff into my new closet.

Thank God we went for that appointment and I learned how distraught H was. I know. It breaks my heart.

So, like a good wife, I’ve been hard at work. I’m now up one pair of Jimmy Choos  and some gorgeous Alexander McQueens. Oh, and I grabbed a pair of Kenneth Cole while I was in the States. Lest I need to go muck out a barn or something. Would hate to get cow shit on real leather.

Oh, it’s hard to be a good Fancy wife.