These Shoes Are Made For Changin’

I swear that the story you are about to read is real. It might sound fabricated, but I assure you that it is true as the stories of Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster. Wait, that’s not really helping my argument, is it? Well, just rest assured that the story is true…

I must preface this TRUE story with a little background. I have never thought of myself as a fashionable individual or as someone who really cares about fashion. If I am in jeans and a t-shirt or shorts and a t-shirt, I have achieved my pinnacle of high fashion. If you catch me in an untucked button down shirt, then there’s a good chance someone has died or is getting married, or possibly I am on my way to a job interview. There was something that happened on the way in this morning that made me think perhaps I might just care a little more about fashion than I would like to believe. And this is what happened…

On my drive in this morning I was fretting that while I have post ideas for my 500th post in a few days and April Fool’s Day, I did not have one for today. Then as if from out of nowhere, the blogging powers that be looked down on me and tossed their fortuitous cookies my way. While at a stop light, I looked down (as I often do) to make sure I had matching shoes on. Please don’t ask me why I do that. It’s just a paranoia I have that I will be in such a hurry some day (because I haven’t been on time for work since 1997, which is OK because I’m salaried) and put mismatching shoes on. It was then I stopped at the red light at the corners of bad luck and good luck and noticed that I did indeed have two completely different black shoes on. Come on, we’ve all done it…right? And here is where the new sense of fashion comes in. Although I debated the merits of going into work anyway and dealing with the inevitable ribbing, I decided to turn around, go back home and put on matching shoes. Well, I did stop at Starbucks first. As I reflected on my decision on my drive (back) to work, I realized that in the past I could have cared less that I had the right shoes on. What I can’t figure out is when having matching shoes on became so important to me. Before today, I would have taken this footwear handicap as a challenge to develop as many witty comebacks for my coworkers when they gave me grief about my shoes. Impressive lines like ‘yeah well, at least I have 2 different pairs of shoes,’ ‘I’m impressed you even managed to notice my shoes weren’t the same’ and ‘so is your mamma’ would have spewn forth (my phrase, but you can use it) from my mouth in my defense, wowing my attackers coworkers.

Now sure, I could use the excuse that I was up late with Lucy and an ear ache, I watched a Lee Harvey Oswald special last night and was afraid to get out of bed this morning, that I had not had coffee yet, I was distracted by the drop in my daily blog commenters, it’s been like 34 hours since I last had cheese or that I am simply an idiot, but I decided to accept full responsibility for leaving the house with mismatching shoes. And because I am man enough to accept responsibility, here is the real reason I headed for work with incorrect footwear: Rachael Ray.

Yep, it was Rachael’s fault. I could hear her voice while getting ready for work this morning and that made me think of food, which in turn made me realize I was hungry, which made me realize that the twins needed breakfast, which always reminds me to put on a little morning TV on for them, which displays the time and that reinforces that I am late, but I am making breakfast for Lucy and Ethel, the scent of which makes me need breakfast, but I don’t have time to make bacon or steak and settle on cereal, but I can’t have cereal without checking my email when eating it and then I see the backyard and want to play with my dog Mabel. She steps on my feet and that reminds me that I need shoes for work. Oh yeah, work. I’ve kinda forgotten that I need to get there. So, while still craving bacon and hearing Rachael’s voice, I close my eyes to get her out of my head, and THAT is when I reach blindly for my shoes…thus putting two different ones on.

I eventually did tell my coworkers why I REALLY was late to work today. They say a nanosecond happens before we can even count it, but I say the scientists are wrong. It took less time than that after the explanation left my mouth until I began regretting it. Stupid Rachael Ray…