Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Same stuff, different day story told to me by a friend:

She dropped off five pairs of shoes at the new Quality Shoe Repair in town. Always nice to support a new business…or so she thought. Lucille arrived on the designated day for pickup with her claim ticket only to find that THEY didn’t have the matching ticket. “Come back tomorrow,” they said. And she did. To total chaos. All the shoes in the store were in a heap, five feet tall, on the floor. The merchant, shorter than the heap, was tossing shoes from one pile to the next asking her nonstop, “Is this it?”

Vintage cobbler workplace with tools shoes and laces.

Vintage cobbler workplace with tools shoes and laces.

“No,” she said repeatedly.

“Come back tomorrow.”


The next day she felt like Bill Murray in Groundhog’s Day. That time loop again and again. “Is this one of them?”

“No, go to the left, the red one.” The red suede boot was retrieved but not its matching mate.

“Come back tomorrow.”

“Alright but let me take that boot with me. I’ll bring it back.”

Next day, same-o, same-o. She wondered how it could be this bad. How do these people function in other parts of their lives? Her own life of chaos, like a blender on steroids, didn’t seem so bad after all.Was she ever going to get the other nine shoes back? At this point, she didn’t want them repaired. Just back.

 Small repair shoe shop on street in Bangkok Thailand.

Small repair shoe shop on street in Bangkok Thailand.

The next day she was hopeful. Even just one matched set would be joyful. One pair of shoes was not enough but she could get by with two pairs. She was starting to think five pairs were extravagant. If she kept her life simple, maybe this would never happen again. Lucille also wondered if she should work on building up her karma credits. Like being kind to assholes. As she opened the door, she saw red. Red suede that is. Her boot. An exclamation of “Hallelujah!” escaped from her mouth, much to her surprise, as religion was her worst attitude. Maybe it was time to convert. Expressing her attitude of gratitude, Lucille praised the shopkeeper for her success.

“Come back tomorrow. I should have the other four pairs by then. Sorry for the delay but I need a rest. Your feet are killing me.”

Lucille was reeeeeeally seeing red now. Quality Shoe Repair my eye. This is ridiculous. Beyond comprehension. She had told others of her fiasco. They didn’t believe it. Neither did she.

Five visits, five pairs of shoes. She was fashionable again. And happy that she only owns one purse.


Tomorrow is another day.


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