Some women like shoes...

I have a huge, cheap, plastic sunglasses fetish. The fact that I could not resist buying four pairs today finally made me come to terms with my little "problem." When I saw that they were on sale for less than three dollars each, my heart started beating a little faster and I think a drop of sweat wetted my brow. They are glorious shiny smudged with fingerprints manufactured in China works of art. I flip my hair as I make kissy faces at my bug-eyed self in a handmirror. In one pair I am a glamorous undercover detective employing the powers of seduction to find the missing clue before the killer can strike again. In another, I am an anxous Hollywood starlet waiting at a cafe for her married politician lover to arrive at their twelve o'clock rendez-vous.

What can I do? Why does any person need THIRTEEN pairs of huge, cheap, plastic sunglasses? What VOID in my life are they filling? Am I depressed or repressing some primal urge? Am I hiding a deep, dark secret? These questions are endless and maddening!

There, I just threw one away. Twelve is a better number. I feel better.

I wish it was sunny now and time to go for a drive.