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.

Tim Hunter