I feel the need to spring clean. Not the Pine-sol variation, but the “I hate all my possessions and all I’m going to keep is my favorite sweetgrass basket, 100 books, my coffeepot, and my dog” kind of cleaning. But you all recognize that for the lie it is, because I’m a fourth generation packrat. That’s just the packrats that I’ve known personally. I’d bet great-great Mamaw Octavia was one, too. It’s hard to let go of stuff. So when the urge hits, I try to embrace it.
I’ve already thrown one thing away today. Well, to be technical about it, two things. Because it was a pair of shoes. Now, even I wouldn’t keep just one shoe. I will keep one sock, though, if it’s a style of sock I have multiple pairs of. Like white ankle socks. Because they never all get holes at the same time. They get holes individually. So I can prolong the lives of sock pairs. It ain’t like they’re penguins and mate for life, anyway. So these shoes, I’m sure you’ve seen me in them because I wear them all the time, are some very nice Josef Seibel black leather cork sole wedge sandals. They were the perfect height– the lift was just enough to be considered dressy if I needed it or cute enough to be casual. I LOVED them. They went with nearly anything.
Three years ago the cork started going to the wayside. I started shopping for a replacement pair. Obviously, I sought out the exact same shoe. I have since found two pairs on Poshmark, but there’s just something icky about wearing preowned shoes. I can’t do it.

When I couldn’t find the exact same shoe, thus began my search for a cobbler to save me. There have been three: the place in Sevierville that’s open two hours twice a week, the place on Broadway that was established when Knoxville became chartered, and finally Pendergrass on Bearden Hill. The answer was the same at every establishment, delivered with varying degrees of sympathy: No, no, no.

I’m no quitter, and I hate being told no. So I kept the shoes in the trunk of my car, hoping to happen across a new shoe repair in my travels. In the meantime, I searched and sought and finally managed to find another pair or two that could suffice. I ordered both and promptly sent the other pair back. Here is a picture of the ones I kept.

Then, another pair of cork soled sandals began to deteriorate. I was not nearly as attached to them. The wedge on them was much higher, and I had the bright idea that they may be salvaged and “parted out”, as we say in the farm machinery junk business. I painstakingly cut the cork away from the shoe. I thought it might actually work. Lord knows I’ve glued enough of Lisa’s shoes back together. And my Lucchese’s, y’all remember that? But it was not meant to be. I didn’t have enough cork, still. And you could tell where I patched it. And the beloved sandals had a thin cloth covering under where the cork was and I couldn’t get the new cork to adhere well enough. I had a mess, is all I had. I know that surprises you all. So back to the trunk of hopefulness they went, including the pilfered cork pieces.

My replacement sandals have already begun to unravel, so this just won’t do. I am continually on the hunt for more perfect wedges.

Three years have now passed since the beginning of my cork sandal trouble. I went to Clark’s today to buy replacement flip flops. Yes, their flip flops DO eventually wear out, but it takes some doing. I decided to peruse their shoes while I was there. And I found these. Hmmm. Not too bad. They may not be as a airish as the other ones (that means breezy, you Yankees) but I think they’ll be passable in dressy and casual clothes. Translation: I can wear them to the funeral home or the bar.

Reader, I bought them.

And I came back to the office, and I opened the trunk, and I pulled out my beloved Josef Seibel black cork soled wedge sandals that I have loved for many moons, and I pulled out the pieces of cork from the donor sandals, and I walked to my trash can and I threw them all in.
And I have not, will not, cry. Because all good things must come to an end.
I don’t hate spending money. But I do hate having to replace things that I love with items I don’t love as much. These Clarks have big shoes to fill. And I write that without a shred of cynicism.

So that’s why I’m a packrat. Blame genetics, blame the Depression, blame plain ol’ frugalness. But it takes some doing for me to expel possessions. Maybe the rest of my things will go easier. I’ll keep you posted. That’s this weekend’s activity. I may not get any further than my closet. I cleaned out some kitchen cabinets a month or two ago. That went okay, I’m not as attached to bakeware and serveware, evidently. I was rather ruthless.

In other shopping news, I have bought and am currently returning two quilts to Amazon. The last one was ugly, and this one now is just too cheap. And it’s a little ugly. I’ve decided bedding is one of those things that needs to be bought in person. There’s a quilt at Cracker Barrel I like but it’s out of my price range. I’ll find something eventually. If any of y’all run up on something in sage green, lemme know. I think my problem with this is, the good Lord knows I don’t need a new comforter, I just want one and He’s trying to save me money.

I promised y’all a better article today and I’m afraid I didn’t deliver. One of these days I hope to shock and awe you with my writing prowess. Alas, today is not the day.

Love and painstaking goodbyes from Appalachia,

~Amy