All this came to a bit of a head after doing the roofing work weekend before last. My boots have been slowly dying, and I was aware of it, but I'd never bothered getting new ones; after all, my boots still fit, felt good, worked just fine. Sure, the fabric in the heel was worn away, exposing the plastic piece along the back, and that piece had long since fractured and broken, but, generally, no worries. After the roofing work, though, well, they were all but trashed. That piece in the back would poke me, and having them splattered with tar didn't help any. It was time to let them go. Besides, they'd served me well for 4 1/2 years (these were the ones I bought in Colorado, on my way from Memphis to Seattle), and I'd more than gotten my $25 worth out of them. Sadly, I had no money, so I've spent a week either looking like an idiot in socks and sandals, or wearing my sneaks...and believe me, I'm happier with the idiocy.
But, that is no longer a problem. Ah, the beautiful feeling of new boots, rigid and protective, supportive and rugged. Black, 12W, steel-toe, all-leather Stanley work boots. God DAMN they feel good.
Hey, I'll take my happinesses as they come.