It’s Too Early To Be Chic
Usually whenever I hear noises from above, I chalk it up to my upstairs neighbor being weird and obsessive compulsive. But this morning around 5 AM while groggily contemplating the clunk-clunk-clunk of heeled shoes, I wondered if she had ever heard of slippers. With slippers, she wouldn’t have to track dirt around her apartment with her outside shoes–so she wouldn’t have to use her hacksaw/vacuum cleaner so often. But maybe that’s too haus-fraus for her.
Or those could be the pair of heels she only wears at home. In that case, there’s either some fetish cosplaying going on, or there’s a bit of the 1950s leaking into the small rip in the space-time continuum over my head.