Why couldn’t everything I have to do be as worry-free as doing laundry? I know I wrote about this before, but it seems that every time I get stuck writing this blog or I have to go out, once again, boot shopping or I slip into the dark days of winter depression, I go back to the relative painless experience of doing laundry. But, as I am experiencing all of these funks this afternoon, I am running out of laundry to see me through.
It all started with having to go out today, once again, to look for a pair of boots to fit my poor-aching-curledtoed-bunioned feet. These feet are not pretty but they’re all I got. When I go to see the Chiropodist he always says, “Ann, your feet are terrible.” He doesn’t have much of a bedside manner, but he’s a really good guy and does his best to alleviate the ache that lives in my feet. But whenever I have to go out and buy boots to wear in the winter, I want to just cry because the world of boot designers just doesn’t care that much about feet that do not fit into an average width boot. I used to have an average foot and be able to shop anywhere, but then the arthritis set in and the whole thing just went to pot.
I really hate to shop for anything and boot shopping is the worst. Maybe part of the pain is that boot shopping is all about winter and ice and snow and slush and slippery sidewalks — all of which make me cranky. But if you live in the Great North, there is no escaping boots from November until March. So, since my pair from the last five winters was showing a little too much wear, off I went earlier this week to an outdoor store that specializes in rugged hiking boots. There, armed with a list of four recommendations by my Chiropodist, I knew I would find the perfect boot and my search would be over. But, alas, the makers of rugged footwear, do not believe that anyone who climbs mountains or hikes or runs miles has fat feet. I’m serious, when I tried on my fourth pair, the salesperson said, “None of these manufactures make shoes for WIDE feet like yours.” That hurt just a bit. Then I asked him, since he seemed to know a lot about boot selling, “Please, sir, tell me where do people with fat feet go to buy boots?” He shrugged with that sort of “who cares” attitude. I felt like I was tossed out of shoe paradise by that shrug.
But I still needed boots. So I left there and went to New Balance who do recognize that even feet that are wide and hurting a bit, need those damn boots. But, alas, they had nothing in my size but, sweetly they said, “No worry, we’ll order them.” So, once again, today, I trudged back up there to try on yet more boots. Nothing fit. I couldn’t even get the darn boot on my foot. The cute young guy helping me, said, “I’ll get it on for you.” I asked him if he was moving in with me to help me put my boots on every time I left the house. He got it and left me and the boots alone. But he did show me another pair and I tried them on. They seemed to fit — or was I just imagining that they fit in order to find something to wear. Besides, they looked spiffy and really didn’t hurt my feet terribly so I bought them. But, after wearing them home, I know I’ll have to take them back since the curling toes were not happy one little bit.
So, here I am, laundry’s done, and, winter is still just outside the door, and I am still bootless. But, I know, my boots are out there somewhere and when I find them I’m going to buy multiple pairs so I don’t have to go through this again. The fact is, I know I’ll never have enough laundry to get me through the boot-hunting-winter blahs again.