It’s a little unnerving when you discover the morning after that the shoes you wore for dinner and dancing the night before are literally dissolving.
And you wonder when they started to fall apart.
Was it the walk from the car to the dinner?
Maybe at the dessert table while you were chatting with your friends?
Or were those flashing lights on the dance floor reflecting the utter decrepitude of your early 90’s wardrobe?
Or maybe, just maybe, the baby got hold of the shoe after I kicked them off and decided to gnaw on it?
I swear they didn’t look like that when I put them on.
At least, I don’t think they did.