My shoe squeaks.
And when I say my shoe squeaks, I don’t mean a cute little mouse-like ”pip” if I step on a warped tile on a floor. No, when I say my shoe squeaks, I mean that every time my right foot hits the ground, it sounds like the Lower Harbor foghorn on the most humid day of the 21st century.
Yes, it’s that bad.
Last year I bought a new pair of dress shoes from a local store (with some of my stimulus money, of course), and I'm very impressed by them. They look good, they feel great, and they don’t hinder me when I have to make that 4-second dash from my office to the studio after realizing that a song is running out and that I should REALLY be in the studio to say something because, after all, that’s why I get paid. I didn't get to wear them much last fall because I didn't have a TV show to shoot, but when I did try them out before the snow started to fall there didn’t seem to be a problem.
Flash forward, now, to yesterday. It was nice out, the snow was FINALLY melted off the sidewalks between my apartment and the station, and I felt like wearing a jacket & tie to work. What would go well with melted sidewalks and a jacket & tie, you ask? Well, I answer, my new shoes. So I stuck ‘em on, and walked to work.
I guess I should’ve noticed things were amiss when, even while walking down a rather loud city street, I heard. . .something. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I noticed it was kind of rhythmic in nature, and that it wasn’t going away. And then when I walked into the station, away from the street noise, I noticed that I heard it every time my right foot hit the ground. And when I started walking down the tiled hall to my office, a tiled hall where sound bounces a little, I realized what it was.
I realized my right foot was farting.
Well, it wasn’t literally farting; that’s just what it sounded like. And the sound continued even when I walked through rooms with a carpeted floor. Every time my right heel hit the ground, that sound was there. Didn’t matter what kind of surface it was; every step I took brought forth that sound. The only time I got around it was to tip-toe on my right foot while walking normally on my left. Trust me--if you ever wanna look like a dork, trying walking normally on your left foot while tip-toeing on your right.
And, as you may be aware, I am pretty good at making myself look like a dork.
Now, I have no idea why my right shoe started to squeak. Maybe it just needed to get a workout after several months of sitting idle. Maybe I wore it just enough last fall and broke it in just enough to have brought its natural sound out. Maybe there’s too much humidity in the air. Maybe it just wanted to bring a little attention to itself.
I dunno. All I know is that I probably want to avoid wearing the shoe until I figure out what the deal is. After all, even though I'm working alone I still feel embarrassed when I walk around, singing and talking to myself while occasionally running into doors & walls because I’m not paying attention while singing and talking to myself. And then throw a very loud shoe into the mix?
Some days, it’s not easy being me. It really isn’t. Especially when I have a shoe that farts.
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