Slippers

Is it me, or do many of us have favorite slippers we keep long past their demise?
I finally had to admit that the hand felted slippers I bought seven plus years ago at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival had met their maker (?)
It took several hints to drag me kicking and screaming out of denial. Gus (my grand dog, not a friend with a foot fetish) kept licking my toe through the hole, all too often my toe grew cold when it made contact with the bare floor, and finally, my friend, Joyce gave up, on looking pointedly at them and actually voiced her disapproval. Her words forced me to be honest with myself and verbally acknowledge that my beautiful and comfortable slippers were no longer as beautiful nor comfortable as they used to be.
Fortunately, I usually bounce back quickly. After a brief period of mourning (five minutes), I recalled that two or three years ago I bought another pair of  gloriously beautiful hand made slippers at the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market. At the time, unable resist them, I rationalized the purchase, reasoning that one day my flowery slippers will pass on to slipper heaven. Oh, how fickle us humans can be.
So here I am, sitting at my desk, my sad old slippers beside me in the trash, my lovely new slippers warming my feet, dreaming of Spring, when it will be time to put them away until the Fall. I should be ashamed of myself. But alas, my fickleness knows no bounds.
So here I am, sitting at my desk, my sad old slippers beside me in the trash, my lovely new slippers warming my feet, dreaming of Spring, when it will be time to put them away until the Fall.
I should be ashamed of myself. But alas, my fickleness knows no bounds.