Yesterday, I became suspicious that the shoes I have been wearing every day for two years might have the teensy tiniest thing to do with the foot pains I have been suffering every day for two years. Me and my ridiculous conspiracy theories. But I could not escape this conclusion once it twittered into my mind, so I went to the Athlete’s Foot to see how this issue might be addressed.

The clerk was a no-nonsense woman who, unlike most shoe store clerks I have known, was determined to provide good service, but I don’t think she knew what to make of me. After I rejected pair after pair of brightly colored shoes that looked like the space shuttle, she began showing me plain white ones that would have looked more a home on a frumpish nurse. When I finally settled for something in between, she began the upselling. Of course I needed a special magic spray that will protect the leather from evil spirits and those hideous socks that don’t rise as high as the ankle.

I regarded the socks as if they would dissolve my feet. “I’ve seen those, but I never considered owning a pair.”

“Damn, how old are you?” she asked incredulously. When I told her, she shook her head. “Everyone wears this kind of sock these days. You should have brought your wife with you. She’d tell you that, you put these on, you look fiiiiine.”

I wanted to tell her that my “wife” was a man whose questionable taste had led him to purchase numerous pairs of the frumpish nurse shoes I had already rejected, but I marveled instead at her confidence that a certain kind of sock could so dramatically improve one’s lot in life.

I bought two packages, one white and one black for more formal occasions.

Update: My ankles are cold.