Over a month, I noticed the shoelaces on my brown shoes were starting to thin out in a spot and it wouldn’t be long before it broke. So, in an attempt to head off a problem, I looked for some replacement shoelaces. I had my eye on some 36-inch replacements when a little voice said, “Oh, I’d go with the 45-inch laces.” “Really?” I said. “That seems kind of long.”
But I listened to her voice and bought the 45-inch version.
Upon re-lacing the shoes, they were just too long. Ridiculously long. But I had just bought them and, by God, I was going to get my money’s worth out of them. Oh, I could have cut them or one end, but then that would have frayed and looked tacky. Instead, I had shoelaces that you could have used to rescue someone from the bottom of a well.
Over the next five weeks, I’ve tied them re-tied them, tried double-knotting them, tripped over them and complained about them every time I wore those shoes. I started avoiding those shoes to steer clear of the lace drama. But these are the most comfortable shoes I own, so I started using them again and the re-tying, double-knotting and tripping resumed.
Then Monday, when I was in a major hurry, I stepped on them in a way that knotted the left shoe. So much, I couldn’t get it untied and so, I resorted to scissors to cut the knot. OK, now I’ve done it. I’ll need to get new shoelaces.
I went to Fred Meyer, back to the original scene of the crime, bought the 36-inch versions and they fit perfectly.
I’m back to not even giving my shoes a second thought. The laces when tied hang perfectly on the shoe and don’t touch the floor. The world is once again a great place to live, as I experience proof once again that size does really matter.