![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Annoying trivialities
Nov. 1st, 2003 03:27 pmI'm still working on the California report (in small segments, rest assured) and I'm creeping up on a plausible-sounding plot synopsis for the Hills/Whim sequel and I'm worrying the Liavek novel like a cat with a catnip mouse. But at the moment I am suffering from annoyance at things that wear out in invisible ways.
First, shoes. I have a good pair of New Balance walking shoes, that I got a great deal on about eight months ago. They are still in good shape superficially. The soles are not cracked and do not leak, the stitching is not coming undone, the laces have not broken. Nevertheless, these shoes are toast. The cushioning is gone. I walk one or two miles a day, most days of the week; it helps keep my blood pressure down. My shoes look just like shoes, I put them on, I go walking, and my knees hurt, my heels hurt, my feet hurt, sometimes my hips and back hurt. I need new shoes. But these still practically look like new shoes. I know all the manufacturers recommend replacing walking shoes every six months. Yeah, right. These damn things cost between sixty and a hundred and fifty dollars a pair and the manufacturer thinks you need a new pair every six months. This is the kind of assertion that I automatically disbelieve. If I had a dead cow I'd toss it over the castle wall at them. I don't actually believe they couldn't manufacture these shoes to last longer. But they don't do it, so I've ordered another pair, and it wasn't such a great deal as the first one, though I did save some money over regular prices. It's coming the slow way, since expedited shipping would wipe out about half the savings made by getting the shoes on sale in the first place..
Second, bras. Ugh, ugh, ugh, it's always a very annoying subject, but I will try at least to stay off the utter dopiness and uselessness of sexual selection run amuck (I used to appreciate people who liked large breasts, but now I blame them, I tell you, I wish nobody in the world had ever had such useless taste). Anyway, I have a big batch of bras that stopped fitting in the year or so before I got diagnised with hypertension and as a result started walking; and I have another batch of mostly sports bras that I got during that year. The old bras still fit and they look fine, but they have, rather like the shoes, actually lost their supporting substance. So I put one on, it fits, it feels fine, it looks fine, and my neck and shoulders start aching after a couple of hours. I spent a long time fiddling with my work space before I realized that it was the damn bras causing the trouble. I have actually thrown some of them away. (I won't throw the shoes away, I can tell right now; I just can't, they look like shoes still.) The sports bras are now mostly too large. If I toss them into the dryer, a big no-no that it gives me tremendous pleasure to ignore, they fit again, but I know perfectly well that I am reducing the lifespan of the elastic and that all too soon these bras too will look fine and not work any more.
When things are worn out they should damn well look worn out.
I'm sure all the problems of the world would be solved and the current President of the U.S. would become a real person with good sense, and everybody would lay down their weapons, and alleged Christians would stop doing everything they aren't supposed to in the name of the person who told them not to do it, and food that tastes good would be healthy, and all publishers would adopt the SFWA model contract, and all books would find every single reader who would love them, and sweetness and light would reign eternal, if only this were so.
Thus endeth the whatever.
Pamela
First, shoes. I have a good pair of New Balance walking shoes, that I got a great deal on about eight months ago. They are still in good shape superficially. The soles are not cracked and do not leak, the stitching is not coming undone, the laces have not broken. Nevertheless, these shoes are toast. The cushioning is gone. I walk one or two miles a day, most days of the week; it helps keep my blood pressure down. My shoes look just like shoes, I put them on, I go walking, and my knees hurt, my heels hurt, my feet hurt, sometimes my hips and back hurt. I need new shoes. But these still practically look like new shoes. I know all the manufacturers recommend replacing walking shoes every six months. Yeah, right. These damn things cost between sixty and a hundred and fifty dollars a pair and the manufacturer thinks you need a new pair every six months. This is the kind of assertion that I automatically disbelieve. If I had a dead cow I'd toss it over the castle wall at them. I don't actually believe they couldn't manufacture these shoes to last longer. But they don't do it, so I've ordered another pair, and it wasn't such a great deal as the first one, though I did save some money over regular prices. It's coming the slow way, since expedited shipping would wipe out about half the savings made by getting the shoes on sale in the first place..
Second, bras. Ugh, ugh, ugh, it's always a very annoying subject, but I will try at least to stay off the utter dopiness and uselessness of sexual selection run amuck (I used to appreciate people who liked large breasts, but now I blame them, I tell you, I wish nobody in the world had ever had such useless taste). Anyway, I have a big batch of bras that stopped fitting in the year or so before I got diagnised with hypertension and as a result started walking; and I have another batch of mostly sports bras that I got during that year. The old bras still fit and they look fine, but they have, rather like the shoes, actually lost their supporting substance. So I put one on, it fits, it feels fine, it looks fine, and my neck and shoulders start aching after a couple of hours. I spent a long time fiddling with my work space before I realized that it was the damn bras causing the trouble. I have actually thrown some of them away. (I won't throw the shoes away, I can tell right now; I just can't, they look like shoes still.) The sports bras are now mostly too large. If I toss them into the dryer, a big no-no that it gives me tremendous pleasure to ignore, they fit again, but I know perfectly well that I am reducing the lifespan of the elastic and that all too soon these bras too will look fine and not work any more.
When things are worn out they should damn well look worn out.
I'm sure all the problems of the world would be solved and the current President of the U.S. would become a real person with good sense, and everybody would lay down their weapons, and alleged Christians would stop doing everything they aren't supposed to in the name of the person who told them not to do it, and food that tastes good would be healthy, and all publishers would adopt the SFWA model contract, and all books would find every single reader who would love them, and sweetness and light would reign eternal, if only this were so.
Thus endeth the whatever.
Pamela
