irritatedIt would have started looking at my feet, in gray sneakers, on pavement. You would have heard my voice saying, "These are my shoes. Because these are my shoes, I know feel entirely qualified to judge myself."
At this point the camera would have tilted quickly upward, seeing a brief vew of a park, blurry from the movement, then panned just as quickly in a hundred-and-eighty degree spin to meet my face, as I said, "Because I just walked a mile in them."
Which, in fact, I had done, at a blinding speed of about two miles an hour.
But, when I got to my desk to upload it, I found that I'd managed not to save it on my camera. Grr! Dopey Leviathan!
