This may be the final straw. The shoe on my right foot, the one I kick my son with squeaks with every step I take. I noticed a vibration about two weeks ago just days prior to my return to playing tennis. I mention tennis because I would be suspecting tennis and stiffness to be causing the squeak if it would have started the day after my first 6:30am tennis travesty. Now this nudge is a full blown squeak. Step, squeak, step, squeak. Sweet Savior on High what is that sound?
Since the noise started, I have tried Shoe Goo, a great product, super glue, not so great a product, Gorilla glue, and I even tried lubricating the bottom of my shoe with joy jelly. The results are as expected. I have pulled up carpet tiles because the super glue stuck my shoe to them, I have a lump of shoe goo on the instep of my still squeaking tenny causing me to drag my foot like a cripple and I slipped and fell up the stairs emanating a nice strawberry scent while busting my shin bone. The Gorilla glue just made my finger tips black (which lasts for 3 days). I reached for the big knife and sliced off a loose piece of shoe tread that I suspected was the problem. The noise is different but remains just the same.
If I drag my foot like I had a stroke, the noise stops. I tried that for about fifty steps and my hip, knee, calf and cow hurt so bad I decided I would rather have the squeak. By the time I got back to my office, I hated the squeak again because now it was doing it on carpeted floor as well. Tears cannot express the pain. When Edgar Allan Poe wrote the The Tell-Tale Heart, he could not have thought a worse haunt. I anticipate the sound before my foot even hits the floor and I cringe at each bark. I am losing my mind over a squeaky shoe. I do not even want to walk anymore. I am in a spiral of squeaky death.
I am going to have to get a new pair of shoes. I love the way these shoes broke in. All of my extraneous foot pain went away when I slipped into these shoes. There are a type of children's shoes that are made to squeak. I guess these lazy parents can keep track of the little terrorists by listening instead of seeing them in the street or twisting with the pit bull by the neighbor's pool. My shoes are less than two years old. For me, these are still infant shoes. I wear shoes for ten years or more. I restitch them, bleach them, glue them and grind them. The last pair of shoes I had were the Magic Johnson LA Gear shoes. I did not care for them. I gained a bunch of weigh while wearing those shoes. Come to think of it so did he after starting that company. I am sure the two are not related. The current pair is, and I hate to say Nike. At least I think so. They do not say Nike but there is one of those obnoxious check marks on them. The only thing more annoying than the check mark is the branding "Nike". At least Puma has a cool name and insignia.
I cannot express the aggravation this is causing. The stress is giving me gas. I know a headache will come to roost because my club foot is hurting. This is worse than a hang nail. Far worse than sticker burs in the yard or fire ants in my pants. I would almost rather wear toe shoes than squeak my way around the water cooler. As gas bubbles gurgle through my lower bowels, I can only think of leaving work, buying shoes and wondering when this anguish will end. I tightened all the shoe laces hoping to change the shape of the shoe. The sound is back in full squeak. I must go.
Since the noise started, I have tried Shoe Goo, a great product, super glue, not so great a product, Gorilla glue, and I even tried lubricating the bottom of my shoe with joy jelly. The results are as expected. I have pulled up carpet tiles because the super glue stuck my shoe to them, I have a lump of shoe goo on the instep of my still squeaking tenny causing me to drag my foot like a cripple and I slipped and fell up the stairs emanating a nice strawberry scent while busting my shin bone. The Gorilla glue just made my finger tips black (which lasts for 3 days). I reached for the big knife and sliced off a loose piece of shoe tread that I suspected was the problem. The noise is different but remains just the same.
If I drag my foot like I had a stroke, the noise stops. I tried that for about fifty steps and my hip, knee, calf and cow hurt so bad I decided I would rather have the squeak. By the time I got back to my office, I hated the squeak again because now it was doing it on carpeted floor as well. Tears cannot express the pain. When Edgar Allan Poe wrote the The Tell-Tale Heart, he could not have thought a worse haunt. I anticipate the sound before my foot even hits the floor and I cringe at each bark. I am losing my mind over a squeaky shoe. I do not even want to walk anymore. I am in a spiral of squeaky death.
I am going to have to get a new pair of shoes. I love the way these shoes broke in. All of my extraneous foot pain went away when I slipped into these shoes. There are a type of children's shoes that are made to squeak. I guess these lazy parents can keep track of the little terrorists by listening instead of seeing them in the street or twisting with the pit bull by the neighbor's pool. My shoes are less than two years old. For me, these are still infant shoes. I wear shoes for ten years or more. I restitch them, bleach them, glue them and grind them. The last pair of shoes I had were the Magic Johnson LA Gear shoes. I did not care for them. I gained a bunch of weigh while wearing those shoes. Come to think of it so did he after starting that company. I am sure the two are not related. The current pair is, and I hate to say Nike. At least I think so. They do not say Nike but there is one of those obnoxious check marks on them. The only thing more annoying than the check mark is the branding "Nike". At least Puma has a cool name and insignia.
I cannot express the aggravation this is causing. The stress is giving me gas. I know a headache will come to roost because my club foot is hurting. This is worse than a hang nail. Far worse than sticker burs in the yard or fire ants in my pants. I would almost rather wear toe shoes than squeak my way around the water cooler. As gas bubbles gurgle through my lower bowels, I can only think of leaving work, buying shoes and wondering when this anguish will end. I tightened all the shoe laces hoping to change the shape of the shoe. The sound is back in full squeak. I must go.
