The Shoes

The shoes have been sitting outside on the front stoop for over three months. Since their arrival on my doorstep, I have despised their presence. Yet, I have done nothing to remove them.

The shoes in question are a pair of the Bean’s mesh sneakers, whose soles had been besmirched with goat poop after a trip to a petting zoo and placed outside until they could be cleaned. Days went by and they sat there, uncleaned. I certainly wasn’t going to do anything about them. In my mind, I had concocted a solid argument why they were not my responsibility. The weeks went by and I would walk past the shoes and remind myself that they were soiled at a petting zoo. I don’t even really like petting zoos. In fact, the only reason that I have visited petting zoos in the past was because the kid loves them. And since the incident happened at a place I would never be responsible for bringing the boy, I was cleared of cleaning the shoes. Plus, I wasn’t even at this particular petting zoo when dookie met shoe. Of course, it never occurred to me to discuss this with WonderWife™. So on the steps the shoes remained.

One day, I finally decided to do something about the shoes. Because I am not the decision maker in my house, I asked WonderWife™ if I should just throw them out. She rolled her eyes and said, “I will clean them.” I guess my displeasure with the shoes didn’t go as unnoticed as I had thought. I was asked to bring in the shoes and put them on the floor near the sink, which I did.

The stoop remained shoe free for one whole glorious day, then they were returned, sopping wet, to the stoop to dry. And they have remained there ever since.