Christmas 2006 - Part the Second - OR - Boot Scootin' Boogie

My wrathful offspring are at an age when all they really want for Christmas is clothing. Or a car*. Clothing is it, then.

Early in December WO2 and I were shopping and spied a pair of lovely suede** boots on sale. So into the store we pranced, she tried on the size 37 and the size 38 (Who thought to label women's shoes and boots 38 instead of 8? Was s/he he mad? We do not like to perceive our feet as being 'big' thankyouverymuch!) and finding the 38 fit best, we pirouetted up to the counter where the lovely clerk rang up our purchase, charmed us into buying insoles and water repellant spray, boxed up the the boots and sent us on our merry, merry way. This happened at about 2 minutes to closing time. Remember this detail.

So, still merrily, we sashayed home and put the box into a closet where resided other delights squirrelled away for the upcoming bachhanalia that is Christmas, squealing with delight at our fabulous find. Okay, not squealing. Wrathful people do not squeal. But back to the boots... they stayed in the closet until about 2 days before the Big Day, when I thought to spray them with the water repelleant to prevent any chance of them getting worn outside unprotected.

As I was spraying them, I admired them afresh. They really are lovely boots. Shut up. I'm a woman. We wax eloquent about footwear. I sprayed them in a spare bedroom so I could close the door afterwards so we wouldn't have to inhale the repellent (in more ways than one) spray. One day later, I returned to apply a second coat. The boots still looked lovely and I admired the fetching little straps that wrap around them and finish in a darling bow at the top back of the leg. Shut up. See above. I closed the door, safe in the knowledge that we had found gorgeous boots with which she was very pleased.

Christmas Day. WO2 begins to put boots on... only to discover we had come home with... two right boots. One sized 37, one sized 38. At no time during the placing of the boots in the box at the store, nor during TWO sprayings did I notice this fact. Now, in my defence, the boots have a rounded toe styled in such a manner that the difference between left and right is not glaringly obvious, but still. When did I become a complete*** moron?







WO2, of course, freaked out, convinced we had made an irreparable mistake. Until I pointed out that whilst people are often accused of having two left feet, no one really does and only someone with two left feet could possibly have bought the mates to the boots we had and if such a person exists I would like to meet this person, truly I would. And introduce them to Messrs. Barnum and Bailey. But I digress... There being no actual two-left footed persons, especially not any with the left foot on the left being exactly one size larger than the left foot on the right, the two left boots would most assuredly be tucked up safely in the stockroom of the store, unsellable. We had only to wait until the stores reopened after Christmas to rectify the situation.

Two days after Christmas, I call the store expecting to be greeted with, "Oh, so YOU'RE the moron who went home with two right boots!" and the announcement that they had a box with two left boots in it. This is not what I heard. They were blissfully unaware that they had a box of boots sellable only to podiatric mutants. They did however, have a pair of size 38 boots that they promised to hold for me until closing the next day.

Early evening of the next day, I trundle on down to the store - which is still a nuthouse, only now because of the post-Christmas sales - two right boots in hand (in box, in bag, with receipt) only to be greeted with blank stares upon my request for the boots on hold. No one has any knowledge of such a thing and they tell me that, in fact, they do not put items on hold and therefore have no assigned place for held items. A 15-minute search ensues and finally, amongst the Christmas season-wracked store, the boots are located, I exchange the right size 37 for a left size 38 and off I go.

And the lesson learned? Never, EVER, trust an exhausted sales clerk to put the right items into the box/bag at two minutes to shop closing time.




*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA - And that's all I'll say about that.

**Suede. In winter. In this climate. Proof positive that I am, indeed, mad.

***There are parts missing, I'm almost positive.