Remember high school?  Remember how great it was to be done with it and how exciting it was to know you’d never have to see [insert most hated teacher’s name here)] again?  Now focus real hard on this teacher, or Evil Troll, if you will, and try to imagine what you would do if this person was to suddenly show up at your workplace, 90 miles from her home/cave.  Even worse, she’s accompanied by your elementary school phy ed teacher who made you repeatedly run laps to “Let’s Hear it For the Boy,” and other songs from the 80’s, leaving you emotionally scarred for years and unable to watch the movie “Footloose” without feeling a strong desire to find your gym shorts.  And they’re walking straight at you.


Run, you tell yourself.  Run before they get to you.


Unfortunately for you, you are waiting for the elavator because you are wearing the most ridiculous shoes known to man and the most kick-ass shoes known to woman; shoes you had to have ever since you saw them two days ago; shoes you’ve been dreaming about; shoes you’ve tried to buy twice when the mall was closed, and when you thought about giving up on them you could have sworn you saw Sarah, much like Obi-Wan appearing to Luke Skywalker, only in a shopping mall instead of outerspace; shoes that caused you to take a long lunch to ‘run errands’ so you could finally put an end to the madness and buy them, teeter around the mall parking lot in them and wear them when you return to work an hour later.  Yes, you are wearing those shoes.  The Shoes that Are Ruining Your Life.  The Spiky-Heeled Strappy Blue Sandals Of Death.  You have no choice but to let Evil Troll and Co. spot you, talk to you, even manage to chastise you for being late (how in hell does she know that???) before you are able to dash into the elavator and bash your head against all the buttons, most notably the Door Close button.  You lean against the elevator, stare at your cute feet and ask them, Was it worth it?


They don’t say anything; they just revel in the glory of the new shoes.  Well, you think, so what if your bank account is drained, you can’t feel your toes, Kenny Loggins is echoing through your brain and you suddenly feel as if you need a note from your mom to excuse your tardiness?  You have new shoes.  And they are cute.  And suddenly, without speaking, your feet have answered you.


Damn skippy it was worth it.

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One response

  1. I like the shoes…when something like that comes along, it doesn’t matter if you “need” them or NEED them…they call to you.  Once they’ve got a hold on you, you’re lost.  Might as well give in and accept the fact that you are, indeed, going to buy these crazy strappy blue sandles with itty bitty heels even if it means skipping work. 
    Ahhhhhh, the melodic siren call of shoes….I love shoes.  I love SODA.  I love SODA shoes. 

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