Shoe Shopping

Dear sweet zombie Jesus, but shoe shopping is tedious. Only about 10% of the shop is relevant to your size. And how many people have had their skanky, diseased feet and mouldy socks that's they've worn for the past two months since they don't have any other pairs, and hey, no point buying more since they'll get some at Christmas, inside that there leather confection of a shoe which looks like someone's gone to town on it with a hole punch and sewing machine, the shoe you're holding right now in your ungloved hand and inhaling the scent of to see the price label, hidden so far down you wonder if it'd be better to risk the verruca and get the price label stuck to your toes. And while the selection at first appearances seems vast, it gets narrowed down quickly when you're such an arsey, lazy bastard like myself.

I can't be bothered owning more than one pair of shoes at a time, as this Raises Questions about What Shoes To Wear, which I just can't be faffed with. So the criteria shoes must meet:
a) Right size
b) Be OK for work
c) Comfy
d) Black
e) As inconspicuous as possible (Some people may want to wander round in luminous green feet-hats that scream "I wear wacky shoes! I am wacky!! CHECK THE SOUTH PARK SOCKS TOO!!!!!" I am not one of these people.)
f) Thick laces (Thin laces snap. Slip-ons slip off.)

And then, the final indignity; once, via minor miracle, suitable footwear is located, you must perform the self concious test-walk, long strides and short strides, fast and slow, turning left and right, wandering around the shop in a painfully obvious fashion, a process in which you become hyper-sensitive to any sensation in the leg-ends. Then you go to another five shops to repeat the process, hiding the suitable shoes somewhere in the shop lest another buys them, reducing your sartorial options.

But on the bright side, I got new shoes today.