I blame the red shoes.
I found these sneakers in New Zealand, and I love them, love them, I do. The color is energizing. And when I wear them, I can run faster, jump higher, and I actually want to clean the house. Yep, they started a dangerous trend in the Acorn household. I suddenly felt the need for a change.
Well, maybe the shoes can't be entirely to blame. It really started when Old Blue gave up the ghost.
The frame of our dear thrifted 1920's sofa gave out. The three of us--the hubs, the youngest, and I--were snuggled up enjoying an episode of Cupcake Wars when suddenly -BAM!- the couch collapsed. Dry rot. Irreparable. After the prescribed mourning period passed...
...Old Blue was finally replaced with something Chesterfield-esque. Thank God. My weary eyes were starting to bleed from perusing the internet in search of another blue couch. So what does this have to do with red shoes? I don't know. Just stick with me here.
All of a sudden, this, with a can of paint...
And these were traded out
Gosh, I dunno. Maybe it's because I've got to dress like this once or twice a week. I want to come home to mod. Maybe it's some sort of tempermental artist mid-life crisis. I won't say cabin fever, since I've milked that one to death.
Anyway, red shoes can sometimes be a dangerous business. Oh, and my daughter is sending me another pair in turquoise. Oh-oh...