…buy two, so goes the quip. The trouble is, the shoe never fits. At the store, you float above the aisle, do some ballet pirouettes and choreograph full length ballets wearing those marvelous new shoes. Wrap them up!
When you get home, you need a tire iron to get them on, the wicked stepsisters show up and no handsome prince! The throbbing corns and blisters only remind you that your foot is shaped differently than all of homette sapiens on the planet. Either that, or it’s a conspiracy that begins at shoe stores and ends up at the pediatrist…
