They're my working in the yard/working on the house/riding my bike shoes. Of course, since they're usually right by the front door, I'll usually slip them on to go to the store or whatever. At least I used to. Now that I'm single, I have my manservant dress me to the nines before leaving the house. I can't be too careful, you know.
Since I wear them riding my bike, I also wear them to work, hiding them under my desk so nobody can see them and take up a collection for me to buy some decent footwear.
Now usually this would be a case of my cheapness controlling me, but I think in this case it's more laziness winning the day. I mean, I'd have to get in the car, drive somewhere, look at different shoes, wait for them to tell me if they have them in my size, Jesus, I don't have all day. And sure, I could order them online, but then I'd have to hunt around for my wallet, find my credit card, search around online trying to find the cheapest price, then waiting like 3 weeks for my shoes to finally show up.
But I finally took the plunge and threw them out. I think the fact that the one on the right there is about to turn into a sandal or flip-flop (two shoes that a grown man should never wear. And yes, I realize that taking fashion advice from the guy in the shoes from the Crimean War doesn't make a lot of sense).
My new footwear, made only of the rarest and most endangered of animals, should certainly make up for the years of flopping around in those things around town.
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1 comment:
In general, I wear nothing but footwear crafted from a mix of the down of baby bald eagles and the skin of unborn wolves.
In a pinch, however, a couple shopping bags and some rubber bands are, I feel, quite fashionable.
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