Footwear Note:
Three Pairs
8 February 2019
¶ I wore three different pairs of shoes today.
First, I put on the grey cloth slip-ons that I bought from a big-guy outfit shortly after coming home from the hospital. Then I went to Fairway and did the shopping. I meant to kick off the shoes the moment I got home, but while waiting for the grocery delivery I got involved with baking madeleines. One thing led to another, and by the time I took off the slip-ons, I’d been wearing them for nearly three hours. Not a good idea, although no harm seemed to be done. The shoes are extra-wide, but they don’t particularly feel it, not yet.
Second, I donned the driving mocs, with woven-leather insteps that both Kathleen and Ray Soleil thought only old Italian men would wear, especially when carrying bocce balls (Walter offered to buy me some gold chains). What dreadful snobs! I think the mocs are perfectly nice, especially as they have low vamps and are easy to get into, even for my swollen foot. The errand this time was briefer, but I got fully dressed for it. I’ve been living in comfy fleece trousers, but I put on dress pants for this occasion, to go with the dress socks that the mocs seemed to require. The waist of the pants stood out an inch from the waist of me, which was gratifying, and I slipped into a sportsjacket that I’ve been dreaming of wearing again for more than ten years. All this to cross the street to Schaller & Weber. The line at the counter was no shorter than it had been on my way home from Fairway, but I wasn’t carrying ice cream this time, and I wasn’t worried about missing the grocery delivery. The driving mocs came from an online source called Hitchcock Wide Shoes, or something like that. If I’d known about it, I’d never have developed this infection. The swelling, by the way, does seem to go down, slowly but perceptibly; Kathleen is very pleased. I hope that the podiatrist will be, too, when I see him on Monday. I hate to think about what-if-he-isn’t.
Third, I wore my bedroom slippers to go downstairs to pick up the laundry. I still had the dress socks on and was enjoying a day off from the ragg sock that I’ve just about worn to death. (The small hole at the toe is is not shrinking.) It was obvious that the right slipper is not wide enough and probably never will be. “Wide” — just one “E” — doesn’t cut it. Or rather, it does.