My feet are going to be cold till April.

I love the fall...or should it be, "I love fall?" with the the left out.  Let me see if I can find out.  You guys just talk amongst yourselves for a while.

I shan't be long.




It looks to me like it should be "I love fall," so let me begin this again.

I love fall. 

And winter is good, too. I enjoy more inclement weatherish days.  I love the wind blowing and the leaves movin' on down the street and all of that. 

And I like that it ain't hot anymore, since I don't have to have the big ole central air conditioner thing destroying the ozone or whatthefuckever we're supposed to be worried about.  Actually, what I worry about is an electric bill that could frighten the Saudis, and that's saying something.

I'm trying to cut back on my use of the furnace, to save some natural gas and cut down on my carbon footprint, to say nothing of saving money there, too, but there is a limit to how many dead cats  you can burn in the fireplace before people begin to talk.  (I will say that all the hounds seem to enjoy the odor of roasting feline...)

All that's great, except my feet are cold from now until it begins to get hot again, some time during the latter half of April, usually.

Wear shoes...wears socks...wear slippers...you suggest?  Not a bad suggestion, except for a couple things. 

First, I don't own any shoes. 

How is it possible to be over 60 and not own any shoes?  It's pretty easy if you don't buy any, is what I've found.  I don't own any boots, either.  I DO own a fine pair of sandals that I bought at Payless Shoe Store, the cheapy shoe place, about 14 years ago, for $12...those are my only footwear.  (Should it be "those" are my only footwear, referring to "sandals," or "that" is my only footwear, referring to the "pair?"  "That."  (God, my brain has been drained of English since I slept. Who said that beating off doesn't sap your brain power?)

When I used to be a contributing member of society, when I worked, I wore cut down rubber chemical boots, which were supplied by my employer.  The left one was destroyed when the forklift got me, so I ain't got them, too.

Anyhow, the only pair of real footstuff I have is that old pair of sandals, which I love and will wear until they are in shreds on my feet. 

I also have my Crippled Chucks, shown in the photo, but my fucked foot is small enough now to fit in a regular shoe, should I decide to get some, which I have been advised to do by my physician and a couple of the orthos with whom I've consulted. 

It's easy for them to say.  Their feet very likely fit into two shoes of the same approximate sizes.  I have to now buy a size 10 right shoe, and a size 11 left shoe, or whatever the actual sizes are.  That's one of the side effects of not buying shoes, you don't know what the hell size you wear.  Anyway, I'd now have to get two different sizes. 

BUT...it goes further than that, as you might have guessed.  (1)   My foot is beset with odd and not altogether pleasant sensations, as a result of having most of the nerves in my foot smashed beyond recognition.  Just putting my sandals on is dicey.  Because of the weird feelings and tenderness in my foot, I have to sort of coax my foot to be still whilst it slips it's way into said sandal.


Plus, when I'm on my fucked foot for any length of time, my foot balloons up in size. So, I begin the day with, say, a size 11 foot on the left side, 10 on the right,  but by the end of the day, my left is an 11 1/2 or something like that.  Pain in the ass.

There is one other little thing. I can't put my shoes on  myself any more.  Sometimes when I'm feeling really good, I can grit my teef and get the right one on, but the left one is never within reach.  Doc tells me that is typical and expected with a hip fucked in the same fashion mine is. 

Don't worry about it.


Don't worry about it?  What the fuck do you mean?  YOU don't have to worry about it, doc, you can put YOUR fucking shoes on without help.  


Bah!


Well, even if I did want to wear shoes, which I don't, I would shy away from getting any just because it's demeaning not to be able to dress yourself. Yeah, yeah, not my fault, no big deal and all that...fuck you.  You try being an adult and not be able to put your shoes on or fasten them, and then you can tell me not to be concerned about it.  


...um...excuse the rant...



All of this begs the real issue, however, because I never go anywhere, or virtually never do.   I don't wanna, and I don't haffta, so I don't.


At home, before my fucked foot, back into the DAWN OF ENORE TIME (echo...echo...)...I've not worn either socks or shoes around the house.  Actually, around anyone's house.  For both fucked foot reasons, and reasons of personal preference, I never wear any socks or shoes at home.  Haven't since some time before I got out of high school, and that was in 1966.


So from now until it begins to warm up, my feet'll be cold.


A curmudgeon's life is not all semen and roses, as you can plainly see.




(1)
Though WHY you would have guessed, if you did, is beyond me.  Why would any of you give the least little thought to my shoe problems, if, indeed, they are problems?  Mind you, I don't care, if  you'd like a longer discussion about my shoe situation, just email me and I'll give you the complete dope.  Information.