I got some new slippers recently. I ordered them from Avon. Who knew that Avon sold slippers? Anyway, it really was time for a new pair. My husband was threatening to burn my old ones.
“What exactly is it that you hate so much about them?” I asked him one day after my slippers had received a particularly scalding barrage of verbal abuse from him.
“You really want to know?” he asked me.
I assured him rather defensively that I did.
“They look like something an old housewife from back in the day would have worn, along with a bathrobe and hair curlers, when she went out to the mailbox to get the mail.”
I considered this.
“Well, I don’t wear curlers.”
They did look pretty bad. If slippers have lives, theirs were definitely expired. I’m sure I’d been wearing dead slippers for some time.
The problem is that I’m very particular about slippers. My feet are always cold. My slippers have to be very warm. I like polar fleece, and I like the bootie style.
Hard to find?
I finally decided I’d better give up and settle for something else. My new slippers are polar fleece, and they have memory foam in them. They are not the bootie style. They are very shoe-like. They have a pretty thick rubber sole (great for going outside to check the mail) and they feel like shoes when you walk. So much so that one day I got all the way to school and half way across the parking lot before I realized I was wearing them.
I showed my new slippers to my fashion-forward daughter tonight.
“They’re unisex,” I told her.
“Are you sure? They look one-sex to me.”
She didn’t mean women’s.
Well, I like them. They’re warm and comfortable. I’ll probably wear them for a long time - way beyond their natural lives.
I think I’m ready to let go of the old pair.
I’ll tell Kent to go round up some kindling.