• Worn out

    shoes.jpgI’ve put a lot of miles on my shoes. If only they could talk they’d day, “put us out of our misery!”

    Buying shoes isn’t something I enter into lightly. It’s a ten (or more) year commitment. I walk past shoes in the store on display, looking for the perfect shoe. I’ve never found them. It’s like trying to shop for a new best friend. How can you possibly tell how you’ll get along in a month or a year, after hanging out in the mall for a few minutes?

    Well, this year someone made the choice for me. I got a pair for Christmas and I feel like I’m in an arranged marriage.

    They seem ok: a decent, serviceable pair of shoes. We’re still in the “getting to know each other” phase, each of us doing a little give and take. The shoes are giving shape, slowly molding themselves to my foot. I’m giving a few layers of skin.

    I’m tempted to go back to my old pair, no matter how old they look, but I think that will only prolong the pain.

    No, a clean break is probably better.

  • I’m OK

    “You’re just ok? Why? Is there anything I can do to help?”

    Honest to God, this happens to me all the time. You see, I’m an ok guy. If someone asks me how I am, I usually tell it like it is – unless I feel like crap. I’ve come to learn folks aren’t that interested to know how you’re doing, passing in the halls. I’m smart enough to know it’s a throw away question, 9 times out of 9. Still, I feel the weight of two moods on my shoulders when asked.

    Yes, I’m that naive.

    How many times has this been you: a victim of mood inflation? When did ok become the new blah? Hell, sometimes good isn’t enough to satisfy the mood monitors. Everything’s gotta be great.

    “How are ya John?”

    “I’m ok. You?”

    “Oh, I’m great!”

    “Yeah? Well f… you.”

    Just so you know, I’ve never said that. I haven’t even thought it. Well, maybe once or twice.

    I’m lucky to be coasting along somewhere in the middle, between the high and low. If I always shot for great I’d be more depressed than I already am.

    Do you think those people really are great? How is it possible to maintain that level of enthusiasm? Even if they are, what kind of pressure does that kind of expectation create? No wonder they think so little of ok. For them, experiencing such a low must feel like the apocalypse is upon us.

    Or maybe they just spend a lot of money at the pharmacy.

    Wait a minute. I spend a lot at the pharmacy! I must be doing something wrong.

    Very wrong.

  • To the mattresses

    Has a plunger ever given you blisters?

    This evening I exercised my power to make (if not officially declare) war, as chief executive of the Kauffman House, and commander-in-chief of the household tools. We’ve been involved in the occasional skirmish for years, but this evening our toilet struck a surprise, vicious blow, leaving me little choice but to fully engage the enemy. Armed with a plunger, resolve, and a really bad temper, I fought long and hard. I put up a good fight, but in was in vain. While the enemy’s blood covered the field of battle, it won this time.

    My hands may be raw and my back may be killing me, but it hasn’t won the war.

    It’s the last old style, high flow, inefficient toilet in the house… but not for long.

    I WILL PREVAIL.