I hate shoes. If I had my way, I'd wear flip-flops every day. I get a lot of lectures from G about the damage I'm doing to my feet. So before a trip to Germany, where we planned to do a lot of walking, I decided to invest in some actual shoes. With soles. And laces. And arch support.
They felt delightful but smelled so putrid that he made me leave them in the hallway of our hotel. I was like, "What if someone steals them?" He was like, "Trust me, no one is going to steal them."
He was right. Three years later, the shoes are still sitting in our closet because I'm afraid to wear them and release the funk in our house. So, out the door they go!
DESTINATION: The trash can.
SIDENOTE: G commended me for "posing" these shoes so nicely. My inner wedding photographer can't be tamed!