Kick off your Sunday shoes. For me that equals heels, thanks to my overly stylish mother always challenging me to at least look good enough to be in the same room as her. And gladly will I 'kick them off'. After doing so, I'll dance.

Last weekend, I had a bestie (that's what Amy Farah Fowler calls her friends) come visit me. I took this opportunity to see a chick flick with a GIRL instead of my oh-so-patient husband. I figured it would be nice to see a movie without the incredulous looks at the screen from my tortured spouse, so we went to see the remake of 'Footloose'. (Spoiler Alert) Aside for the death race of school buses intended to be somewhat of a coming-of-age challenge, the movie got my foot 'a tappin'. And since it's still sunny, surprisingly, down south, I've been quite content. Content enough that I've been enjoying some of my schoolwork, and definitely content enough to be groovin' all over our apartment. People, I can't stop dancing.

I'm not sure if anyone has had this problem before, but I'll describe it to you in a bit of detail. Currently, it is quiet and still in our place as Ryan and I both pretend to be filling our minds with knowledge thrown at us by overdeveloped syllabuses and underrated professors, and yet, my foot will not stop keeping a beat. At this rate, I'll have cankles by Christmas. Also, I've had the same song stuck in my head for approximately 42 hours and I'm still not tired of it, nor do I quit dancing to it. And the final straw: I feel the NEED to learn a new line dance. Please, any suggestions to make it stop or at least limit it would be appreciated. I'm fairly sure our neighbours downstairs are done with the foot tapping and would show no sympathy for my swollen ankles.