…I moved into my first apartment that was just my own. No roommates; no one to fuck up my shit, but also no one to fall back on. Just me.
That same week, I decided I needed a new pair of shoes and, thanks to a “Buy One, Get One Half Of” sale, I actually bought two pairs for pretty cheap.
Not that I needed two pairs of shoes, mind you. I, at just about any given time, own maybe three pairs of shoes. Total. One pair of fancy goin’ out shoes, a pair of my every day sneaks, and a pair of old, beaten up shoes — that used to be my pair of every day sneaks — that I wear if I know I’ll be trudging through dirt or mud and whatnot. I wear shoes until they wear out.
So, yeah, I didn’t really need two new pairs of shoes. BUT they were cheap, so I bought them. I have worn the first pair, and then other pair has sat — in their original box — on my closet floor, for the last three years.
Jump to three years later. Today, actually.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve taken several trips from Columbus, OH up to Cleveland, carrying a dozen boxes or so of personal belongings into my new house. Saturday, my good friend Troy Stith helped me load up a U-Haul truck and move all of my furniture. I spent most of today cleaning up the apartment so I could turn over my keys to the landlord tomorrow. And, this evening, I met up with some friends once last time and went bowling.
As I turned in my rental shoes and started to put my sneaks back on, I noticed that — after three years, almost to the day — I had finally worn out the pair of shoes I bought when I first moved into my apartment; a giant slit running the length of the shoe, just above the sole.
Since I’m giving up my first apartment all my own along with the shoes I bought with I first moved into it, it seems kind of fitting that — when I leave Columbus to restart my life in Cleveland — I’ll be wearing the other new pair of shoes I bought. Three years ago.
A whole blog post about shoes and not one tongue joke. Seems kinda wasteful.