Hot water and other thoughts.

November 20, 2008

Too many columns begin with a recap of the day’s temperature, location in the calendar or relative light or darkness. Not mine. Not today. Today I’m all about confessions. It’s the new, open and transparent Jeff Cutler. Join me as I list a few thoughts I’ve had germinating, ruminating and otherwise rotting in my skull.

I have no idea how the water heater works. Each morning, the first person in my household to shower starts off with a tepid barrage of H2O. Nary 15 minutes later, the second person in enjoys a blissful, steam-filled experience of piping hot needles of water. Shouldn’t the person who showers later have a worse experience? Early bird, worm, warm shower and all that?

Why does mail take longer to travel east than it does west? This is probably a condition of the time zones, but could it be that simple? For years, I sent letters to a girlfriend in Chicago every week or so. She sent letters back at the same frequency. Our letter-sending match of tennis had one constant – aside from the fact her letters were astonishingly heartfelt and moving while mine were drivel and simplistic. That was the time it took my letter to reach her was on average 22 hours shorter than it took her letters to reach me.

If we’re using the time-zone defense, I would think her letters would have been the fast ones. As you go west, the post office is open later and therefore can jet mail eastward later into the night than the PO’s on the coast. Whatever. We broke up for reasons that couldn’t be properly explained in a letter, so I guess it doesn’t matter.

What’s with the shell game that shoe manufacturers play? As I’ve gotten older I’ve located precious few shoes that make my dogs happy. Taking some of the blame, I haven’t been proactive enough buy multiple pairs when I find the perfect pair. But my naivety keeps me strolling down a path that tells me a shoe style might stay around longer than four months.

On my feet and in the closet right now are relics of the shoe industry. I have Merrells, Clarks, Reeboks and Johnston & Murphy shoes that are no longer being made. Don’t even start about running shoes and sports-specific styles that buzz through stores as fast as the athletes who endorse them.

You read it here first. As of today I pledge to take the second shower as often as I can, sent mail only from east to west, and stock up on shoes I love. If you see some wet guy at the mall with a batch of postcards in one hand and a shopping bag full of Merrells in the other, give him a wide berth. He’s easily confused and you don’t want to wind up in his next column.

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