My feet are confused

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As I sit here, I can think of only one thing. I try to concentrate on the work before me, what’s happening in our community, but one cerebral theme keeps recurring.

My feet are sweating.

My feet are hot.

All I want to do is take off my boots and socks.

Great! Now, they’re itching.

My feet are confused.

Just the other day, it was so warm out I wore spring flats, because I could. Oh, the glorious ability to toss the snow boots to the back of the closet. Oh, the happiness of leaving the thermal socks in the laundry basket. Oh, the joy of letting my poor feet breathe after a couple of bouts of horribly cold temperatures.

Yes, I walked and nearly skipped at times in my spring shoes – even though it’s still only late January/early February.

I thought I’d try it again today, but when I went outside this morning

I hurriedly went to the sock drawer and pulled a pair over my red, aching toes.

I was pleased to warm them up at that very moment, but I was reluctant to pull on the boots. Granted, each fall I’m excited to dive into the boot collection to see what’s been waiting for me during the scorching months — but at this point, I’m already sick of wearing winter shoes.

I’d say I’m chronically impatient.

I’m currently fantasizing about what it will be like to unzip these horrible heat-filled contraptions, slide my dry, scaly skin over the lining and rip those stretched-out socks from my unpedicured appendages.

I just stuck a pencil down the back of the left one to allow some air into the thick tube sock that is sucking the life out of me.

We’re good enough friends here at the newspaper that I could probably take all of it off and no one would care. But that’s a risk I’m not willing to take.

So I’m stuck in my boots for now, in the morning hours – and I’ll probably have sandals on before the sun sets because, well, it’s Nebraska. Maybe I’ll put on flip flops — oh, the thrill of that piece of plastic between my toes and the thin, non-supportive of plastic beneath my arch!

God only knows what tomorrow may bring.

I guess I’ll keep my closet full of all different kinds of shoes through the year. I don’t really believe winter is completely going to end and some days I don’t really know if it’s going to begin. It will be July and I’ll still be suffering in one way or another.

And wondering what season it actually is.

I guess that’s what you get when you live in Nebraska during our new weird climate — confused feet.


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