The campus parking lot this morning was a thin sheet of black ice, or perhaps just the result of an incredibly vicious frost on asphalt--whatever it was, I skated from my car to the door on the flats of my loafers. It's probably time to stop wearing loafers, and that's likely the universe telling me that, but when one is in the habit of sitting on one's right foot, it's best to wear shoes that come off easily. (My right shoe spends an awful lot of time on the floor under my desk, hollow and footless.)
Perhaps this is also the universe's gentle suggestion that I ought to learn to sit like a grown-up, with both feet on the floor.
I have no recollection of asking the universe for its opinion on either my footwear or my desk-side posture.
But the thrill of scooting along on the parking lot, that I'll keep, dear universe.
I fight almost every day with the temptation to sit on my left foot. Clearly, we were siblings in another life.
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