Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Salt of the earth


Salt stains on my shoes are the absolute bane of my winter existence. No matter how carefully I step or how immediately I wipe, at the end of the day, I look down and there are those pesky, jagged lines of white scrawled onto my boots. Sure the salt is distressing to leather, but what really eats away at me is the embarrassment of its unkempt appearance. Exacerbating the situation is its inevitability--unless you have car service, you have likely worn salt-stained shoes in public.

A friend once told me about one winter's night when he was looking particularly fine, decked out in new duds from head to toe, and went to party at a hot, new club. The place was hopping: the music good, the people fun. But he left early, sullen and in a foul mood. Why? He couldn't stand the look of the salt stains on his shoes. He had tried to wipe his shoes with paper towel in the restroom but, alas, the stains remained.

At the time, I thought his reaction was a bit much. But, today, looking down at my salt-stained boots, I feel his pain.

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