Shoes in haystacks

I'm in the Twilight Zone, Dead Man Walking, woman waiting for a job. I feel like a leprechaun, hanging out at the end of the rainbow, waiting for the pot of gold to turn up. I'm pulling petals here.

As T's at work - what with having a real job and all. I've had to lean on my next reliable shoulder; Gossip Girl. I've watched most of season 3 in two days, and I'm finding it all rather addictive. Although when you look at it all at once you realise that everyone is lying to everyone else and apologising for it all the time. Most tiresome. Love the outfits though...and I find myself saying "spotted" a lot in my mind.

Anyway, in between bouts of Gossip Girl, I'm razzling up virtuous hot chocolate (1 tbs unsweetened cocoa, 1 sachet Splenda, 1/2 cup skimmed milk, 1/2 cup boiling water) and trying to give myself facials (not a good idea). I also ran out in the rain this morning to buy shoes, as I don't want to have a Monday morning fashion crisis if Monday turns out to be one of those Mondays where-one-might-have-to-look-presentable.

Small detail on the shoe front. I'm a size 41. Picture the average Chinese woman.. size 41 doesn't exactly leap to mind, does it? So, as of this morning, I'm now qualified in the art of shoe shopping in Hong Kong. Upon entering a shop, I look straight at the lady at the counter and ask what their biggest shoe size is. Before looking at anything. This avoids any chance of disappointment or heartbreak.

This is generally taken as a trick question, but 99.9% of the time, the answer is, "39". Bugger.

Seeing my face fall, this is then followed with pulling hand movements and enthusiast expressions like "but stretch! Stretch!"

Ha! Stretch from a 39 to a 41?! Fat chance that's ever going to happen.

Thank goodness for Zara...

Effortlessly stylish enough?