Try Try Again

The athletic shoes I purchased, a few months ago from Macy’s, didn’t work out because, although the needed cushioning against impact was good, the way the shoes were built began causing my hips to rotate out of alignment.

Money down the drain – considerable monies down the drain because supposedly great athletic shoes don’t come cheap, and I’m not talking about fancy name brands. Just plain old everyday supportive athletic shoes.

More money down the drain when I ordered two more pair from a vendor I’d previously had good luck ordering shoes from. Only this time, the fit wasn’t good. One pair was too loose front to back, the second pair was too wide, looked like clown shoes.

At that point, I remembered hearing about a place that uses something called “a five-point inspection” to fit you to the right shoe. I did my due diligence research on yelp and made an appointment, even though the location was halfway around the world from here.

Of course, my appointment fell on yesterday, when it was drab dreary wet outside.

I came thisclose to cancelling, but wanting athletic shoes off my to-do list, I headed out and was lucky in that the drive up was manageable drops of rain. The heavy downpour did not start until I was on the return journey, close to the complex.

At any rate, upon arriving for the appointment, I immediately felt like I was in the wrong place.

No one working there appeared to be over the age of 21 and what can kids this young tell me about anything, thought I.

I started to turn around and head back to the complex. However, on the other hand, these kids probably do marathons and triathlons, so maybe they do know something.

My sales kid appeared to sound knowledgeable, talked a good game, the shoes I purchased (two pair) felt good in the store, but they always do feel good in store.

I won’t know if I got snookered hoodwinked bamboozled until the weather changes, and I can get out and test said shoes on concrete and asphalt.

So there’s that.

Another thing is, as I was walking to the door of the store, coming down the walkway, in my direction, was a big white guy (BWG) that didn’t look quite right. I got such a bad “danger danger will robinson” feel coming from him that I pulled from my pocket the pepper spray and got ready for any shenanigans he might bring my way before I could get in the door.

I got inside no problem, he walked on by.

A few minutes later, as I was browsing the store’s goods, waiting for my sales kid to get to me, I noticed BWG was in the store, appearing to also be browsing.

He looked very out of place, but took a number so, though my gut was telling me he was someone to beware of, I put my suspicions aside and pretty much forgot about him.

This morning, my phone rang from a “restricted” number and, just like that, BWG flashed through my mind and something told me it was he.

I get robocalls all the time, never answer the phone unless it’s a recognized number, but this is the first time I’ve ever received a call from a restricted number.

Where was BWG in the store when sales kid was ringing up my purchases, asked for my address and telephone number for the database, and I blurted my number out loud enough for anyone close by to hear.

Thus far, that restricted number has tried reaching me several more times. However, the last two came up as “blocked” because, after the second try, unable to shake the feeling it's he, up to no good, I changed the settings to no calls from unrecognized numbers.

Make that the last three came up “blocked” because caller is still trying to get through.

I don't know what shows up at the other end. Maybe unrestricted doesn't realize he's blocked.

At any rate, thank goodness for technology. It's not like the old days when women had to change their telephone number and go unlisted in the telephone book to stop unknown unwanted strange telephone calls.

Nothing on my calendar remainder of week, and expecting nothing but rain next few days, it’s reading, needlepoint, television and indoor biking for me.

And by the way, Head Maintenance Guy (HMG) showed up Tuesday afternoon with a battery for the smoke detector.

“I was hoping you’d forget”, said I.

“Why?”, said he.

“Because I’m tired of that thing going off when no one is around.”

Remembering Barbara’s comment about a system that doesn’t require batteries, I asked HMG if he’d ever heard of such a system.

“Yes, but those have a 10-year battery”, said he.

“I’m 75, and will probably be dead in ten years, so it would work for me”.