Sunday, March 05, 2006

Irritating Shoes

I am not what you would call a clothes horse, slave to fashion, or even close to someone who has a clue to what's hip on the runway this year. Or any year for that matter. I dress to fit my personality. Erratically, with a strong focus on comfort. I am usually wrinkled, drooping and look like I wear sacks with sleeves. If it's loose and roomy, I am a happy camper. I clean up ok for those special occasions but would prefer not to. In a word, I am a slob. Clean blue jeans, clean T shirt with no holes, clean socks and undies and I am ready for church.

But when it comes to footwear, I am one fussy SOB. Especially now that my dogs have been around for over 50 years. I cannot tolerate poor fitting shoes. My left foot which has taken more than it's fair share of abuse is especially sensitive. Add in the fact that I am sporting triple E width shovels and finding a good fitting sneaker or shoe can be a daunting task.

So I take shoe shopping seriously. I stay away from the payless wally mart 3 pair for $10 stores. If I find the right pair, paying full pop bothers me not. I will try on 5 pairs and leave empty handed if none meet my demands. And once I have found a pair that hugs my aching feet just right, I will wear them till they rot off my feet.

Late last fall I was sure I had found such a pair. They slipped on like they were handcrafted to my feet. Plenty of width in them to keep those 3E toes happy. Cost me almost $80. Worth every penny. Or so I thought.

Now that they have roughly 3 months of mileage on them, they have developed an especially irritating habit. It started with the left shoe. I began to notice a small squeak with every step once they had gotten damp. This small irritation was nothing if the shoes were comfortable. I could and would put up with it. That was my inclination until the right one started in with a squawk in every step. Now they complain from the moment I put them on in the morning right up to the moment I fling them off for the night.

I am of a mind to continue the battle. I feel as though the noise they emit and others comment on is worth the comfort I enjoy from wearing them. But have I just traded one kind of Hell for another? They make so much noise I tend to focus on them and their incessant chatter than the many tasks at hand. Another bad sign is that I have begun to talk back to them. Not good. I am not ready to throw them in the Goodwill bag. But they are beginning to drive me crazy.