I Don’t Have Any Shoes

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I’m 54 years old.

Haven’t missed many days of work in 38 years.

I’m currently in a precarious position.

Seems I don’t have any shoes.

Even when I’m high on the hog I only ever have 3 pair.

Work boots, a pair of sneakers and a pair of dress shoes.

I wear the dress shoes 3 times a year.

They’re currently in good condition, but I can’t wear them for my job, or with my relaxing clothes.

I have a pair of work boots, and I’m currently wearing those, but they’re in rough shape. They’re flapping a little.

“Santa is bringing you a pair,” Kathy informed me.

So, I’m supposed to tough these out until the 25th.

And normally, I have a pair of sneakers.

They were good sneakers.

They were in good shape. Black. Very stylish. Comfortable.

I wore them to dinner with the Leone’s on Saturday night, took them off when I returned home, went to bed, figuring they’d be all right...

...they are gone.

Vanished!

“Where the hell are my sneakers?” I asked everyone in the house.

“There are black ones down there,” Kathy said.

“They aren’t mine.”

“Are you sure?”

Am I sure?

“They aren’t mine!”

And here we are 3 days later.

No one knows a damn thing!

So, currently, I’m down to a single pair of shoes that are tattered and torn.

Someone stole my damn sneakers in my own house. A couple of Sam’s friends were by on Saturday night. Here’s what I think happened:

One of those friends, who also has black sneakers, put on the wrong pair and wore them home.

And here we are.

Now, some may be asking, ‘Why not buy another pair?’

(You don’t know me very well. I don’t care about shoes, and I certainly don’t go shoe shopping).

Golf spikes!!!

I have golf spikes!!!

They’re comfy and in good shape!

Problem solved.



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