One of the biggest tradeoffs from normal life to that of a caregiver are shoes. I miss my heels. I’m 5’8″ and a fierce pair of pumps or stilettos has me eye-to-eye with lots of stuff waaaaaay up there, not in the least of which are those wonderfully tall women that always catch my eye. Le sigh.
For years though, it’s been flats and let me tell you, that’s the rudest of awakenings for someone that can run faster in heels than in sneakers. I can seriously jet in them without the hint of a wobble! Don’t hate.
In between loads of endless laundry (there’s nothing like two geriatric men having a “bad bathroom day” and expecting your tired self to keep them clean and sore-free), I like to either check out catalogs or surf the Internet for my soleful beauties.
I buy them anyway – even though, I no longer wear’em on a daily basis (learned the hard way after eight hours at work followed by nine hours in the E.R. with my father. My tootsies were lookin’ fierce but after the fifth hour I
wanted needed my flats – the better to pace the corridor with).
I mean, who knows when I’ll have to sprint somewhere. A girl’s gotta be prepared, right?