All winter long I’ve been staring at my shoe collection longing to wear my sandals.  I sometimes would put them on to go down to the basement, and would think thoughts like once I can start wearing these sandals on a regular basis, I will be happy again.

The past few days it has been over 80 degrees– suddenly, inexplicably HOT.  I have not sorted out my summer wardrobe, I barely know what looks good, and I’m almost afraid to put on summer clothes thinking that the temperature will bottom out as quickly as it rose and leave me stranded at work in a skirt and tank top then I’ll be forced to walk home freezing cold, possibly stopping at the mall to buy a sweater to avoid catching a cold.

It’s a lot to deal with.

One thing I know for sure, is that it’s officially ok to start wearing sandals again, which I enthusiastically took on.  Sunday evening, the weather was lovely, so I shanghaied Gentleman Caller into walking with me to Wise Lawyer Friend’s house to feed her cats.  It was nice to be outside, and we segued through some pretty neighborhoods that I never get to see, but by the time we got to Wise Lawyer Friend’s house, we were both in agony.

He was wearing flip-flops, and I was wearing my black sandals.  These sandals of mine have taken me through the good times and the bad, and I’ve covered a lot of miles in them.  I canvassed Montreal and Washington DC in these shoes, and they held up really well, so a 2 mile roundtrip should be cake.

If it was cake, it was bad-tasting cake.

Gentleman Caller borrowed masking tape and covered every offended and potentially offended patch of foot skin with it.  I tried to do the mind over matter thing where I convinced myself that my feet only really hurt when I stopped moving, and that it wasn’t that bad really.

Last night I sat down on my toilet with a needle, antiseptic, and cotton balls and lanced away at the blisters lining the edges of my feet, and this morning, I pulled out the brown sandals and walked to work in those.

Turns out both the brown and black sandals chafe horribly on the pinky toe of my left foot, so now I’m going to have to hobble home and lance that blister as well.

The thing that vexes me most in all of this is that I have been making a point of buying quality footwear.  I’ve been spending the money to ensure that I’m getting a product that lasts, and is actually designed to be comfortable for walking in rather than the $3 canvas shoes from the big bin at Wal-Mart that I used to wear– and my feet have never felt worse.  To look at them, my feet look pretty beat up and tough.  I’ve got calluses all over the place that look quite unsightly.  What’s the point of these calluses if they don’t protect me from blisters?!?!  Do they exist only to look bad?

I refuse to be one of those people who wear sneakers constantly.  I refuse to wear socks with my sandals because that is possibly the worst thing anyone can do, and I would hate myself for it.  Buying quality footwear has done me no favors, so what’s my next recourse?

I guess I’ll buy a box of band-aids and wait for my feet to adapt like I do every summer, and while I’m adapting I’ll remember the two pairs of sandals I’ve had in my lifetime that never gave me blisters, and hate the fact that one pair broke, and the other pair was so ugly one of my best friends gleefully threw them in the dumpster because she hated looking at them.

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