Life is, simply, better. (And no longer soggy.)
I've got folks coming over tonight for homemade chili and wine. Naturally, at 8 p.m. last night while cooking I discovered I needed more onions. Thus, an emergency run to Stop-and-Shop.
So I pulled on the new boots and jogged out through puddles, the monster slush pile on the corner of H Street, and then the monster slush pile on the corner of I Street. I was invincible. On Broadway, it was up to the sidewalk, by necessity. I started a little slide/dance on the icy crust thereupon, when a voice in front of me called out:
It was man just outside The Playwright. Forty-something. As burly as a bouncer. (Maybe the bouncer himself?) No coat. Out for a cigarette break, and evidently, the fashion parade.
"Those are most awesome snow boots I've ever seen!"
"Thanks, man. They ARE awesome!" I replied, skating up to him and sliding past with arms flailing.
"What do you call that pattern, anyway? So cool!"
"Paisley, I think. I love them because I can just walk through all of this crap and have dry feet!"
"Whatever they are, they are AWESOME!" he called after me.