It's about me, and you may already know that I've joined the dark side and purchased a pair of Crocs to wear to work. If I'd gone to the cool shoe store in the mall first I could have saved some other store visits and some time spent at the mall, a place I generally loathe.
I've been anti Croc for some time now. When the damn things first showed up a few years back I hated them and swore I'd never darken a pair with my feet. Having worked in kitchens I'v been around my share of clogs, and then Crocs started showing up there as well.
I swore by a good pair of boots for years as my kitchen shoe of choice, and then I realized that a stout shoe worked as well and that I didn't miss the whole ankle support thing. I've been through my share of both over the years, wearing out more pairs of shoes than I care to remember.
And then recently I may have spent some time pacing in circles in a sort of detention facility, and my current home county may provide inmates with orange, fake crocs to pace circles in.
And while I hate to admit that my epiphany happened here, I didn't hate the shoes. In fact I started to understand why so many coworkers wore these type of shoes.
And then I had some foot issues for the past week and change, and my latest kitchen shoes made the problem worse. They are also slowly falling apart, wearing through at each intersection of stitching that holds the different pieces of leather together. I've been in the market to be in the market for new shoes for a couple of months at least, but I've put off actually looking because of time and because I can be cheap and want to get every last bit of wear out of a pair of shoes.
The shoes I'm currently wearing are old Converse that, when new, were my all time faves, and which have been worn solely while mowing the grass for the last four years. They're also loose and forgiving of the aforementioned foot issue while my newer non work shoes will likely be the last pair of narrow Converse I ever buy. I just can't deal with them anymore, and they were also not friendly to the foot issue.
So that's my story. I work at nine in the a.m. tomorrow, and I'll take the Crocs on their initial run then. I may hate them seven to eight hours later when I get off work, or I may have fallen in love with these things I so derided such a short time ago. Maybe I'll bore your asses off with that tale tomorrow night.