(From Jay) If the Shoe Fits, WEAR It Already

Pamela is normally a responsible person. But she has some blind spots (see my posts about her issues with fire, counters, and power tools.) One of them is an aversion to wearing shoes on our property.

She has footwear of every conceivable type, so her persistence in being barefoot 98% of the time drives me nuts. 

Especially if she's outside. 

Worse, if I'm building something. 

I want her help because she has a good eye and great ideas, but I'm a First Responder firefighter, so I know freak accidents occur with surprising frequency.

She doesn't always handle my safety rules well. Here's a typical conversation:

Pamela (coming into the work shed, all business): Hey, Jay, Rose keeps knocking over the chickens' nesting box. I figured out a solution. If you cut this piece of wood on a 45 degree angle...

Me: Why aren't you wearing shoes?

She (puzzled by the question): It's hot.

Me: I don't care if it's hot; it's not safe to be around all these tools without shoes. 

She (contemplating her bare feet, then shrugging): It's hot.

Me: You could step on a nail or a staple.

She (wiggling her toes): It's hot. 

Me: You could get splinters in your feet.

She (patiently): It's hot. (pause) And I have cute toenail polish on.

Me (patiently): It's nice. (pause) And get some shoes on. 

She (stepping back): Now I'm on the ramp. I'm not in the shed, so I don't need shoes.

Me: Pamela!

She (back to business): If we angle a piece of wood this size to fit between the top and the shelf, it will stabilize the nesting box but also allows us to remove it for cleaning. Here, let me show you.

Me: Stop! You're not coming in here without shoes.

She (rolling her eyes): I'm just going to step on that one spot. It's clear. There isn't a nail, staple or splinter on that spot.

   
Me: No.

She: The chickens come in here without shoes.

Me: If you sprout feathers, I'll reconsider.

She (marching through the doorway): I'm an adult. You can't tell me what to do.

Me (throwing her over my shoulder): Fine. I won't tell you.

She (yelling at my back): Illegal use of the fireman's carry! I'm reporting you to the Chief! 

I deposit her on the deck and walk away. A minute later she comes back to the shed.

She: I'm wearing shoes. Are you happy now? Okay, if you cut right here, this piece of wood will fit right in the...

Me (folding my arms): Those are sandals. You need shoes.

She: Sandals are shoes.

Me: You know what I mean.

She (patiently): Darling, you said I should put on shoes so I wouldn't step on a nail or staple. Please explain to me how I could step on either with the top of my feet. 

Me: No.

She (triumphantly): Because you can't! I win!

Me: Whatever. You're still not coming in the shed without shoes.

She (wrinkling her nose): Your work boots give you a sock tan.

Me: Yes, I have tan legs and white feet. White feet without holes, punctures or splinters. You need real shoes.

She (trying one last tactic): We're married. That means that half of the shed is mine.

Me: The back half is yours. You have to go through my half to get to your half, and my half requires shoes.

Enough said. 


Verse of the day: (Isaiah 52:7-8) "How lovely on the mountain are the feet of those who bring Good News, announcing peace, proclaiming news of salvation, saying 'Our God Reigns!'"


Note from Pamela: I think a more appropriate verse would be Song of Solomon 7:1, "How beautiful are your sandaled feet, oh queenly maiden."

To read a similar story, click here.

To read about how Pamela gives Jay gray hair climbing on counters and randomly starting fires, click here.
Or by trying to use power tools, click here.
Or by reading (yes, reading can be hazardous to your house if Pamela does the reading), click here.