Brown
Judy Conlin
I am a bit of a Type A personality. I need things done in a certain way, in a certain order and, of course, done my way. Thus, it should come as no surprise that the clothes in my closet are all hung in color-coordinated rows with bins of matching shoes underneath them.
No, I am not like this with every portion of my life. I would be. I want to be. I used to be. My age and associated problems have caused me, much to my distress, to abandon many of my ritualistic practices. I am not happy about this, but these are the cards I’ve been dealt, and they are the ones I must use.
Therefore, I am sure you will understand that I am almost fanatical about having the different components of any outfit I am wearing match. Because of my long life and shopping abilities, I have been able to do this for years. Over time, fashions change, garments wear out and one’s body size changes. Still, I have been able to mostly keep up, except in the case of the color brown.
I have four pairs of brown pants, two heavy brown jackets and plenty of different-colored tops that can go with brown, but I had no light brown sweater or wrap, which I always wear because my arms are always chilly, and no brown shoes.
All through the sweltering heat season, which started in the spring and is still with us, I have been unable to wear anything brown. Brown is a fall color, and September is a fall month. I was getting desperate to wear brown, so I was delighted to find a light brown sweater on the internet. All I needed was some brown shoes.
This posed another problem. Old age had been catching up with me, with one body dysfunction after another. As soon as one problem was resolved, another popped up, the latest being a hugely swollen and black right leg and foot.
Since I could not wear a regular shoe on my right foot, I could not order a new pair of shoes. If I got them big enough to fit my right foot, my left shoe would fall off, and if I got them to fit my left foot, there was no way to get one on the right foot.
The only possibility was to buy two pairs of shoes alike and get one pair in the size of my left foot and the other in the size of my right. I was just too parsimonious to do this, so I continued for a while longer, hoping my right leg would return to normal.
This Sunday, I woke up to find an almost normal right leg and foot. Hallelujah! I was happily rushing around getting ready for church. My first thought was that I could wear brown, completely forgetting that I still had no matching shoes. I was quickly deflated.
I looked at myself in the mirror. In the brown pants, a beigey-coral top and the drab brown sweater, I looked like a very dull moth. I certainly was no fashion plate making her debut into autumn, but if I could find some shoes that didn’t clash too much, I was going to go with it.
The search began. There was no brown bin since I had no brown shoes, so I systematically began going through each bin. Occasionally, I would find a gold or white shoe that didn’t clash, but since my foot wasn’t completely normal yet, they always hurt too much to walk in.
As the pile of discarded shoes grew higher, the time I had before I must leave for church grew shorter, and my temper grew shorter and shorter. I yelled at the shoes and stamped my feet, dislodging a box from the top shelf of the closet.
Still angry, I flung it in the corner. The lid came off, and nestled in that box was a brand-new pair of beige sandals with coral beads. Some angel must have thrown them down from heaven.
I soon realized that I had ordered those shoes myself, but since I didn’t have all the parts of a brown outfit yet, I had put them on the shelf and completely forgotten them.
I strapped them on, grabbed my Bible and danced out the door.
I certainly didn’t make a pretty entrance at church. I still looked like a dull old moth, but I felt like a butterfly.
More later,
Judy
www.nursejudyinfo.com
