Differing Thought

It’s strange what your mind gets caught on. You find yourself thinking about this weird saying or event at strange times for days and even weeks to come, and, if you’re like me, every time the thought springs up in your head, it’s quickly followed by the thought, why am I thinking about this.

This week, I’ve thought a lot about a 30-second conversation I had over Thanksgiving about shoes. I bought new shoes a few months ago. I’ve needed new shoes for much longer and I actively shopped for shoes for at least two weeks before hand.

The shoes that I was replacing were the best shoes I’ve ever owned, hands down. They were my first pair of Rockports, and they more than lived up to their name. I bought them in February 2007, so for the better part of four years they were my primary shoes. Early on, their stitching got a little ruffled and the toe got a little scuffled, but they felt great, even towards the end. Alas though, for shoes and creatures alike, the end is near when there is a hole in its soul that just can’t be fixed… or sole.

I decided on a pair of swanky Clarks as the new Rockports didn’t look right. My new shoes are great, and I love them, but they appear to scuff up pretty easily. So my mother, hi Mom!, asked me what caused that, and I didn’t know. My dad, hi Dad!, apparently believes the stairs are to blame. At the time, I said something like, Oh that makes sense, because it makes sense and I didn’t have a better reason. The conversation shifted and was quickly forgotten about. Until…

I got home and, much to my wife’s dismay, marched upstairs with my shoes on. I was about halfway up the stairs when I remembered my Dad’s Theory of Shoe Toe Scuff: blame the stairs. I slowed down and watched my steps. I proved his theory false. And then I continued my march up the stairs with other things on my mind.

Throughout the week, the thought returned frequently and without cause.  I'd be singing to a song on the radio and just as I get to a point where I don't know the words, the question would visit me for a while.    What scuffs my shoes?  I'd be pouring a glass of water and suddenly there it was.  Shaving.  Showering.  Busy at work.  The question would come and go, and I'd go mindlessly on my way.

By the end of the week, the question had lingered long enough that I decided I needed shoe polish, stat.  Last night, I put it on my official Christmas list to Santa,  Brown Shoe Polish.  Then this morning at work, in the middle of a conversation, the thought filled my head just as I was getting out of my car... so it was that awkward time when the conversation is put on hold for both people to get out of the car. 

Accompanying the question this time, however, was the answer.  So with no further ado, John Duffy's Shoe Toe Scuff Theory is... getting in and out of the car.  For me this is when my shoes get scuffed.  This has been further evidence of my brilliance, and I am publicly recommending that there be a law requiring signs posted at all automobile exits urging passengers to heed caution as they exit the vehicle.