One morning in early March of this year I was awakened to what sounded like a mouse, having found some material and a place, to make itself a home. You know how when you’re sleeping you hear a noise, your head comes up in an effort to confirm the noise and when you do not hear it any longer, you fall back to sleep. Well, that is what – was going on this particular day. Oh, I heard it again. I’m going to get this little sucker. Where are you?
Now frustrated, I can no-longer get that extra hour of dreaming, that Denzel Washington said “he was prepared to leave his wife and spend the rest of his gorgeous, mmm…life with me.” I hear it again. My ears are now trained on the area, of the sound. I follow it. It stops, then starts again. I keep walking in the direction of scratching noise. It seems to be coming, from our second bathroom. Not really prepared to see a mouse in my bathroom. I got dressed in case I had to go running outside, scared to death of this little menace. Mmm, I need something to throw, or hit it with. Ok, I have my husband’s size 11 shoe in hand. Now I am ready, to kill this thing.
The closer I got to the bathroom, the louder the scratching. This tells me, the mouse is in there. I don’t here water running, so it’s not taking a shower or washing up in the sink. I ease the door open and it’s my husband. He is sitting on the toilet, with the top down, sand papering his feet. He looks at me. “What are you doing?” I thought you were a mouse. “Do I look like a mouse?” No! I heard this scratching noise and thought, you were a mouse. “Get out of here and what; were you going to do with my shoe?” Kill it.
The moral of the story is. My husband has beautiful feet. He keeps his toe nails clipped evenly and his feet moisturized. I never knew; he used “Sand-Paper”. I recall one summer jazz festival we attended. Everyone was looking their summer best, as far as their clothes go. But… if you divert your eyes and look down, you suddenly become aware, that there are some, not giving their feet, the attention they so desperately deserve.
We find our seat and another couple comes and sits next to us. The man was absolutely gorgeous. I mean to the point, it actually made me nervous, sitting next to him. I did not want to become overly conversational with him, for fear that his lady might see what I was thinking. So I became very engaging with my husband, looking around at the large crowds, taking part in the summer fashion show. I happened to drop my program. I bent down to pick it up and then I saw them.
Omg! Mr. gorgeous had the worst feet, I have ever seen, on a man. There was so much crust on his heels. It was as if, the creator said. “Let’s make man in our own image, but then forgot to smooth the clay, that fashioned the heels of the feet. I mean, come on man. What were you thinking? Wearing nice expensive, leather sandals and not taking care of your feet. Damn… What else, do you not take care of? I can imagine visiting an Art Exhibit. “And here we have a clay sculpture titled, “Unfinished Heels”.
I turned my attention to my husband. I look down, he is wearing, his Italian leather sandals. His feet are pristine, moisturized and looking as soft as a baby’s behind. I am feeling really proud and very lucky, that the condition of my man’s feet look so good because of…….Sand Paper.
I can now appreciate Eddie Murphy’s role in ‘Boomerang’, where he possessed a foot fetish and would only date women with pretty well groomed feet. Hey Ladies!