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The Battle En...Shoes?

May 2, 2013

Throughout history, it is a fact that has been proven factual time and time again. Hundreds of hours of strenuous research has been researched, to prove what has been proven. The data has been analyzed and these analyses have been cross-analyzed, and reanalyzed to the point of being anal. Harvard, Yale and even local high schools have pitted their best and brightest against a hypothesis, only to find it completely non-hypothetical. Countless field studies, by top scientific minds, and experiments have been performed and experimentally studied on top of fields by scientists, all with the same profound conclusion: Women really like shoes!

The point is that most women love shoes. If they can’t afford shoes they covet them. If they can afford them they hoard them. Why is this? Well as I’ve stated countless times before, women are nuts. However, there is actually a workable logic with this particular issue: Shoes don’t notice if you’ve lost or gained five pounds. Unlike blue jeans and bikinis, (which can result in fits of crying in dressing rooms) shoes almost always fit. It’s a welcome comfort zone and women relish it. Some have entire closets or walls in their homes devoted to nothing but shoes. A pair to go with every possible outfit combination and some that were just “too cute” to pass up.

Men, for the most part, are not so complicated nor meticulous in their footwear. Most guys have an average of five pair of shoes, each with a definitive function in their title. Work shoes, dress shoes, athletic shoes and a pair of boots. Each can be interchanged in purpose depending upon the situation and desired look or need. Hmmm, you noticed there were only four kinds mentioned. That’s because the fifth pair is what this is all about.

Though they officially have no title the fifth pair is oft thought of as the “go-to” shoes. In most cases they are run down, worn out, practically falling apart but oh so comfortable. The actual type of shoe and its degree of wear varies depending on the individual. But they all have one thing in common, most women hate them. They don’t want to just get rid of them, they want you to want to get rid of them. The reason is a mystery. Maybe it defiles their shoe spirituality. Perhaps because if it isn’t shiny and new it just won’t do. Regardless of the reason, it was that fifth pair and my spouse’s desire for me to desire them gone, that started a silent war in the House o’ Saw.

The shoes in question are an aging pair of Converse, Chuck Taylor canvas high-tops. Lil’ Red (my spouse, duh) launched the first attack. In that subtle way women have of disguising their true malicious intentions with sweetness, she bought me a new pair of shoes. Innocently suggesting that now I “didn’t have to” wear those nasty old ones anymore. Seeing through her charade the battle was joined by way of lacing up the new ones and tucking them under the bed. She retaliated by constantly moving my old shoes from places where I’d kicked them off. With little snide comments like, “Don’t leave these trashy things in the living room.” or “These aren’t really shoes anymore just scraps held together by the laces.” So I made sure to leave them out in the open. Propped artily against chairs or set neatly on table tops. She then resorted to guerilla tactics. On more than one occasion they “accidentally” ended up in bottom of the burn box. “Oh how did those get in there?” she would say feigning ignorance, “They must have fallen off the table...where they don’t belong anyway!” Ouch, she added insult to injury and I began leaving them in the middle of the bedroom floor...a trip hazard when the lights were out. She returned the favor by helping the shoes into the Goodwill bag. The shoes would move through the house, seemingly of their own accord, always closer, ever closer to and sometimes beside the trash can. Then back again to the safety of my office. This ghostly transition continued for months. One would think the outcome would be either her giving up or me giving in. In the end it was neither.

The war ended as silently as it had begun. With a mutual unspoken cease fire at a yard sale. It was here that a lightly used pair of Chucks was discovered that would be my next “go-to” shoes in the making. Red was content enough in knowing the old shoes would be going that she allowed me to dispose of them in my own way and time: they will be burned ceremoniously and go the way of the Viking kings...I owe them that much.

I welcome almost all questions and comments via through Focus, or e-mail me at wanderingchainsaw@gmail.com.

Hope to hear from ya, until then try and stay focused. See ya!

 

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