Also, The Floor Is Still Dirty

You could make a case that I don't really need garden clogs, but one day it occurred to me that I did, and I went to my local garden store and picked out a pair and they went right over my feet like anything, and I hate shopping so I went home with them.

I should've asked a few questions but I don't always know the right questions to ask.

I thought I needed garden clogs because when you're gardening you are going in and out of your house to pee or goof off or grab water, and if you're wearing some kind of shoe you can kick off and slip right back on, you can leave them outside and keep your house clean. I admire people who take their shoes off every time they come in their house, but if I have to untie and tie them it's not going to happen here. So, clogs it is. Mud shoes.

Now. A few things to remember. The reason I don't tie and untie my shoes every time I come in the house is because it's a bother. I deal with the dirt coming in the house in the following manner: I have dirt-colored rugs and hardwood floors with enough grain that you don't really notice how dirty they are, especially if you're nearsighted, don't bother to look, and don't give a shit.

But hey, clogs. Well, they weren't ideal. I got the kind with the little lip of a heel thinking they'd be easier to slip out of, but I can't slip into them without bending over to finger my heel into the lip. So a lot of the time I kinda sorta don't take them off. Let's say most of the time. I garden, I get dirt on my clogs, and I march it through the house, exactly like I would with any other shoe. And when I sit on my haunches to weed, my heels come out of them anyway, so every time I stand up again I have to reinsert. There will be no running in these shoes.

That, however, is not the thing I should have asked a question about. What I should have asked is, if I am squatting with my left shoe in my own shadow and my right shoe in direct sunlight, will I curl up like a human thermocouple?

I have no idea what these clogs are made of, but they conduct heat like copper in lava. I am so unaccustomed to the sensation that I nearly fried my right foot off before it occurred to me to ditch the shoe. Prior to that I was imagining sudden-onset unilateral neuropathy or Foot Shingles.

Because I am who I am, I will continue to wear these clogs until I feel I've gotten my fifty bucks out of them. I didn't get mom's house-cleaning gene but I did pick up Acquired Depression-Era Syndrome from her.

It all reminds me of a story my college chemistry professor told us. He said that researchers at Dupont created a miracle material that was super-thin and super-strong and super-impermeable, and while they were hashing out what it could be used for, someone suggested condoms. Capital idea, they said, and everyone was aroused by the thought of great profits, and they whipped out a few prototypes, and the chairman himself insisted on testing it over the weekend, maybe a few times to make sure.

In he comes Monday morning and throws the box in the trash and says Nope. Why? the team asked. What happened? It's super thin! It's super light! It's super strong!

 

"It squeaks," he said.

Well, we all thought it was pretty funny. I don't know if chemistry professors are allowed to tell stories like that now. Maybe not. I liked him: he was a very good teacher. Ethical, too, in that he waited for me to graduate and move to Boston before calling up and asking if I wanted to go to lunch because he was in town, so we did, and then right out of the fucking blue he pinned me to the wall--he was 350 pounds if he was a gram--and slobbered on me and felt me up, and I wriggled out and said something about having a boyfriend, and he said Sorry and I never saw him again. Because that was the kind of thing that happened, and that was kind of the way we dealt with it.

Also, we wore shoes we could run in.

Meeting The Neighbors

Hi! Yes, nice to met you, too! Carl, did you say? Oh sorry. Kale! Kale? Kale! And who is this little buttonhead in the stroller? Enid? What a sweet name! Hi, Enid! Hi, Enid! Aww, Enid's shy. Welcome to the neighborhood, Kale and Enid!

Gosh, isn't that typical, I just meet someone for the first time and I look like I've done my hair with a fidget spinner. Sorry! I usually fix it first thing in the morning. I've got that big cowlick on the one side, and the flat spot in the back, and it just takes a little floofing but I must've gotten distracted this morning. Anyhoo!

Yeah, I'm in between haircuts, so it's a little weird. Right, Astrid? You haven't even had a haircut yet, have you, honey? Cute little button. Oh, Enid, right, sorry.

The garden? Thanks! I try. It looks a little funky now because the spring bulbs are all done and it's just a bunch of brown crap, and the fall perennials haven't really come in yet. I'd have had a nice new mulch down by now but I haven't even started weeding. There was all that rain, and then it got so dang hot, and you know. Yeah, last week would've been perfect, but I had a thing. Monday. And I had another thing Tuesday. I had all the things last week, I swear. Anyhoo.

Sheesh, you'd think I could've gotten that little postage stamp of a lawn done by now, right, Chive? Sorry. Kale. Mower's in the shop. Four weeks out. Swear to God, every year. You think you're going to get to it, and then the rains come, and all of a sudden it's up to here, and you haul out the mower and she's-a no work. I called a company and you know they want eighty bucks for that little patch? I don't think so. Kids used to do a whole yard for three bucks when I was coming up. Yeah, that was a long time ago, you're right about that.

Anyway, nice to meet you, Chard--no, I'd better not shake hands, I've been in the chicken shit. Ordinarily you wouldn't see me out in public in an old shirt and torn pants and these clodhoppers, but hey, you caught me just when I was thinking about getting to some of these weeds. No sense being a fashion plate in the garden, right? Be nice to get all this done and shower up and put on a nice outfit and enjoy the place. You all should come back in a few days. Bring your wife too. Pardon me? Gerald? Bring Gerald. We'll sit out back and have a beer. Not for you, Aphid! Ha ha! You're too little!

Enid. Swear to God, I've got a mind like a, like a, you know. You drain your spaghetti in it. Mind like a cauliflower.

Colander! Yeah, that's what I meant. Hey, why don't you and little Edna pop inside for a second, and I'll write your name down so I don't forget it, because otherwise I totally will, and I'll give you my email. Come on in. No, no, no need to take your shoes off, I'm going to have to vacuum soon anyway--obviously!--it's usually a lot more picked up in here, but I had that thing. You want some water or something? Sure. Hang on. Let me just rinse this glass. I've got a note pad around here somewhere. It's under that stack of mail, I think. Don't trip on the laundry basket, I was just getting around to that. Let me shut that door--no one needs to see my sewing room while I'm in the middle of something! I'll just shut this one too.

Help with all this? I never really thought about it. I mean, why pay someone to do something I'm perfectly capable of doing? Huh. Your mom, you say? Oh, your grandma. Well sure. She'd be a lot older than me. She's how old? Oh. Huh. Every other week, huh? Sure. I'll bet it looks real spiffy. You know, if you're into that kind of thing. Sometimes I think people care a little too much about appearances, if you ask me. I mean, no matter how much you clean, it just gets dirty again. We're all going to drop dead soon enough anyway. Bam. Finito. Here's my email. Thanks for dropping by! Careful of that door on your way out. Wind gets ahold of it and it can have a helluva kick to it. Smack you right in the fanny.

Broccoli-Boy.