following the reorganization of my office and the movement of my desk

from under the old desk's deep recesses did emerge four (4) pairs of three-inch heels--one pair of patent leather black kitten heels that I accidentally bought on the Champs-Elysees; a pair of $12 beige felt close-toed stilettos (these might actually be 4 inches), a pair of open-toed fuschia Steve Maddens I bought to go to the ballet with Melanie, and a pair of black leather Mia zip-up pirate boots with silver buckles. Anyway.

Now all those shoes are living in the newly opened corner of my office in front of the bookcases.

The contracts manager, an extremely small and excitable woman, walked by yesterday afternoon. "Oh, I love all your shoes!!" she said.

"Thanks," said I.

"You know what it looks like?" she said. "Like you used to be... what do they call it? A streetwalker! Like you used to be a streetwalker and then gave it all up to become an editor, but now you leave your shoes there on display to remind you of your roots!"

I don't remember how I responded to this.