Manolo say, here is the Manolo’s latest column for the Express of the Washington Post.
Now that the Fourth of July is over and my two weeks of vacation are finished, I need some snazzy sandals to cheer me up. Something not too costly. Please help.
Manolo says, yes it is true, the saddest days of adulthood are those hot days of summer when your annual vacation has ended and you are stuck back inside at the place of the office, working for The Man. Your first morning back is tolerable because it is filled with the bustle of work and the entertainment of catching up on the office gossip. The second day, Tuesday, however, is when you realize the sadness begins.
For the first eighteen years of your existence your summers were filled with utopic months of freedom from responsibility and schoolwork. Your school and it’s disciplinarian, Mr. Wegnogson, the evil vice principal who was the bane of your youthful existence, and whom your current supervisor vaguely resembles, were weeks away in either direction.
Of the course, things were not so easy for your mother who, whenever the summers rolled around and you and your brothers were loosed from governmental supervision, seemed to always be pulling out the bottle of “cooking wine for pasta sauce”, usually just before she pushed all of you out into the backyard and locked the door, often for the full afternoon.
Look! Here is the Georgia from Sam Edelman. The snazzy golden sandals that are on the sale!