Tuesday, February 27, 2018

In my last blog entry I did a bit of bellyaching over my slightly advanced age and the tangential consequences that I now suffer as a result--like losing my keys. This morning I had a different type of issue that had nothing to do with age, and everything to do with stubbornness and laziness.

Two weeks ago I noticed that the heel of my shoe was slightly loose. I don't wear real cheap shoes, but these aren't exactly $700 shoes either. They are good solid black shoes that I wear to work, and they have served me just fine for about two years now. BUT, I also walk about two miles to and from work every day and that--combined with the fact that I'm not one of those dudes who wears tennis shoes to work and changes to dress shoes when I arrive--has caused a bit of wear and tear on my shoe. Thus the loose heel.

When I saw the loose heel, I took a long look at it, and used my non-existent loose-heel experience to make the determination that I could get a few more weeks out of it. In hindsight, I should have just bought new shoes during my lunch break that very day, rather than chance a tragic accident. But I do not like shopping for clothes, food, my son, or any of that. The only time I have patience for shopping is when I'm buying records, but that's only because I consider that to be a borderline, orgasmic experience. Clothes/shoe shopping? Not so much.

Anyway, I was walking into work while listening to the Tony Kornheiser Podcast, when I tripped over a loose brick in the sidewalk (why sidewalks are made out of brick, I do not know). I was a bit embarrassed about how hard I tripped, but I was determined not to linger too long in that spot, so I attempted to keep walking, and that's when I knew the heel was even more damaged. When I looked down at my shoe, I noticed the heel was 80-percent detached from the rest of the shoe, and I had to make a decision: 1)Do I walk slow with a damaged heel? 2) Do I rip the heel off and walk lopsided 3) Do I call an uber home and just forget this day altogether. I chose option #1.

I walked about 20 feet (no pun intended) and I realized that I wasn't going anywhere fast. The heel was flopping around which made it nearly impossible to have any semblance of a cool gait, but I kept trying to walk while simultaneously trying to make sure no one was walking behind me or looking at my feet. I can't begin to communicate how uncomfortable I was, and even though the door to my job was just 500 feet away, it felt like 500 miles, and all I wanted to do was comfortably sit down, work and eat my breakfast.

Finally the heel fell off completely and I just did the lopsided walk into my door. Luckily for me, there weren't many people around, and I was able to make a beeline to my desk. As I type this pitiful entry, I am sitting at my desk sans shoes, but I still have to figure out how I'm getting home to change, and eventually out to get more shoes. This is pitiful I know.

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