So. It's been a scary week, if you pay attention to the news. We've already been consolidating trips in the car or walking to the store (okay, that's mostly Pure Luck), and I will testify to taking fewer trips to Starbucks and making more coffee at home.
But I'm not working as hard at this as some people are. My RevGal friend, Verde, is taking a pretty ruthless inventory of her life, to see how she would cope with any kind of major disaster.
I've been looking over my shoe collection to see what will get me through the winter. Unfortunately, in my weight-losing, wardrobe-improving shopping of last fall, I wasn't looking ahead to a time when Rheumatoid Arthritis would make my darn toes hurt and I would have to stop wearing heels because of the ouchy, pushing-toes-forward factor. So I am taking my Birkenstock loafers to the shoe repair place (again), although I had planned to retire them, and I am looking over other possibilities for rejuvenation.
I read on an RA website that Crocs are the shoes of choice, and I almost bought a pair, but I remembered, I have some! They have been sitting out by the garage ever since I walked into poo in the backyard while wearing them. We don't want to talk about how long, but let's just say there was snow since then. A lot of snow.
This morning I ventured out into the rain and recovered them, filled the kitchen sink with soapy water, pulled wet leaves out of them, and got to work. (I saw no sign of poo, which seems really weird, but let's credit the snow.)
A little baking soda, a bottle brush, some elbow grease–et voila!!!
I took them into Pure Luck's office and made a little fuss over myself. "I didn't need a new pair, did I?"
"No," he reflected. "These are perfectly croc-ulent."