Mrs. B was out buying me a pair of work shoes this afternoon, as she’s wont to do, and brought home some for me to try on including a pair the clerk specifically recommended. “Perfect for a casual Friday,” he assured her. “These are great, very versatile. I’ll go grab a pair from the back – eight and a half, right?”
She was making dinner when I took them out of the box, laced them up and slipped them on.
“The guy at the store said they’d be great for a casual day,” Mrs. B shouted in from the kitchen. “He was really nice; a business major at Drexel, I think. He really seemed to know his stuff.”
I don’t know. They were great, no argument there, but maybe just not for me?
I shifted my weight around and thought about it. I wasn’t so sure they were perfect for a casual Friday. I walked into the family room and back again. I wasn’t so sure they were good for any day, to be honest.
I went into the kitchen and said to Mrs. B, “I don’t think they’re right for me. Maybe the cut is wrong? The right one feels great, but the right one feels a little funny. Plus, it’s a half size too big.”
Either there’s a Size 9 shoe box at Banana Republic with two left shoes in it, or a two left footed man with a right left foot a half size bigger than his left left foot who is about to enjoy the most comfortable casual Friday he’s ever known.