Left Feet

I break shoes. I guess from walking very hard? It was a stretch to even try and get the black boots fixed. The pointed toes were almost holes and the spiky heals were nothing left but metal nails poking through. Joe, the shoe man, looked disappointed and began speaking in Italian. I was surprised when he even took them from me and handed me a ticket last weekend. He seemed so disgusted by them.

They were ready LAST Wednesday...barely 5 blocks away from home. As the weekend passed and we bought a tree, drank plenty of (red) wine, admired several snow men, did laundry, cleaned, walked and walked and walked and STILL did not pick them up. I am realizing I am afraid and maybe even a little ashamed to go back. It is these certain situations---

I AM shy.

(I'll have Zach go...)