I went hunting in my closet for a shoe today (the left white sandal if you are curious) and had to remove about half of the shoes to find it. Once they were half out, I figured, "Hey. Paul's not home, I might as well get out the rest and take a picture."
As I was pulling them out I realized that I beat my shoes. I don't just wear them like normal people, I wear them to walk in the rain. I wear them to stand up all day at my job. I wear them without socks. A few of them I used to wear to the 9-0.
With the exception of a few pretties (which happen to be new), my shoes are abuse victims.
Phase one of attack: Throw out the broken ones. The ones that are stretched out (those black flats with the silver jewels). The ones with holes in them (the gold ballet slipper looking ones). The ones where the heels have worn off the rubber square and it sounds like nails on a chalkboard when you walk (the brownish heels). TOSS 'EM. PLEASE BE RUTHLESS. (Except for the old pair of rainbows that got you through junior and senior year of college. That would be like giving away a child.)
Phase two: Replace what you need.
Phase three: Store shoes properly. A pile is not proper.
I am so excited.
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