Monday, June 29, 2009

Shoes and Online Socializing

The voices in my head are singing Til We Ain't Strangers Anymore by LeAnn Rimes and Bon Jovi

What I'm Reading: Night Passage by Robert B. Parker

When we moved, a year ago last January, Jim calculated that my shoes had cost five hundred dollars to transport, based on the number of boxes they took, truck space, mover-hours, etc. I don't know what method he used to calculate this--possibly husband math.

He staged a shoe-intervention.

He bought and installed some very nice shoe racks in our walk-in closet, and told me I could keep whatever would fit. If I wanted to buy a new pair, I had to donate or toss a pair. I muttered something like, "I should have held out for the house with two walk-in closets." Shoes are like carbohydrates and chocolate. They comfort me when I'm stressed. They fit, even if I've over-indulged in pasta and truffles. I am attached to my shoes. This is a fairly common phenomenon in women, I think.

Once the shelves were in the closet, though, my OCD tendencies made it impossible for me to keep a pair that wouldn't fit on the shelves. I couldn't have a pair sit on the floor. There must be order in the closet. (I'm sure Jim counted on this.)

I had to find new homes for several pairs. (Sigh.) I'm going to miss those oxblood snakeskin pumps from 1986. Oh well, the suit they matched went to Goodwill about ten years ago.

This morning, I had an email reminding me that five friends had invited me to join them on Facebook...

First it was the blog, then Shelfari. Then Google Reader to keep up with all the blogs I follow. I have a Twitter account, though I haven't uttered a Tweet. So far, I haven't done anything worthy of an alert that couldn't wait for a blog update. But when I run across a celebrity in a restaurant in Greenville, I am ready.

"Facebook will eat into your writing time," said Caution. "And what about Linked In, are you going to want to to that next? You have Linked In friends, too."

Caution and I aren't well acquainted, and I ignored her, as is my custom.

I set up a Facebook account, virtuously thinking I would spend an hour or so getting it set up, then log on once a day for a few minutes.

That was five hours ago, and I'm still playing with this thing. The first several messages I got were from my FRIENDS who had invited me to join, telling me that this thing is addictive, and I'd better watch out because Facebook will devour not only my writing time, but apparently also my sleep--and forget about Jazzercise.

I need a shelf for my online social sites... I'll Tweet if I find one...

Peace, out...


No comments: