There comes a time when you just know. You can try to ignore it, but sooner or later it will become impossible.
The slippers simply have to go.
My favorite slippers are fleece booties made by Lands End. Always red.
Because red is warmer, duh.
I am picky about slippers. I am a barefoot girl during most of the year, but in winter my feet are always tucked inside my booties. I usually get several years out of a pair, and it’s always at least one year too many because I resist retiring them when they actually need to be retired. The last time I ordered a pair I was saddened that they’d replaced the suede bottom with a rubber sole. But I got used to it pretty quickly and they were once again my favorites.
Today I realized I actually disliked wearing my beloved slippers. I’d worn them to the point that they had zero cushion left in the bottom, and the fleece was matted down and kind of slick feeling inside. Unpleasant, for sure, and I’d been ignoring this condition for weeks. But today I hit the end. They went in the trash. Lands End is sold out of my favorite booties for the season. I’ll have to wait until next autumn to replace them. For now I have temporarily taken over Mr. Sparky’s slippers, which are the same design although slightly smaller (Mr. Sparky has delicate tootsies) and totally the wrong color, which means my feet are cold, although it’s really only in principle and not in temperature.
Mr. Sparky hasn’t worn his slippers much. He decided he didn’t like the rubber sole and didn’t care to adjust. But he’s worn them just enough that when I put my feet in them I can feel that the footbed has formed to someone else’s foot. It’s enough to remind me that these are not my booties, even if he did give them to me.
Friends and families often give us things that we feel vaguely obligated to keep and powerless to shake. Not things as in stuff, but pieces of identity. You’re heard it, I’m sure.
“He’s got his dad’s temper.”
“Her mother and all her sisters are high-strung like that.”
“Nobody in that family ever had much ambition.”
“All the men in that family drink like fish.”
“The women on that side of the family always act like they’re too good for anyone else.”
The shoe may vaguely fit at first, but you don’t have to keep wearing it until you own it. You have a higher identity. The Person who made the entire universe affectionately calls you His son, His daughter, and He really means it. He gives you family privileges. You get to inherit His stuff.
You even get to inherit His qualities and personality attributes, if you’re open to it. He’s really happy to share with His kids who want to be like Him.
And while it may seem like a tall order at first glance, you’re going to find out that His stuff fits a lot better than the stuff your family tried to hand down to you.
Including that leisure suit your Uncle Roger keeps telling you is going to come back into style…