I took a rare trip to the mall yesterday, because I was in desperate need of a new pair of shoes. My Merrells are at least two years old (maybe older?) and I wear them just about every day. They have no treads left, no support, they are basically disintegrating underfoot. To make matters worse, my used-to-be-hard-to-fit feet are now, post-pregnancy, absolutely impossible. Try telling the salesman that you need a size 11 narrow shoe, preferably with no arch. They actually laugh at you. Then they bring out the one pair they have in stock, and (as my mother used to say) you might as well wear the boxes.
I settled on Merrells with an open back, and I'm hoping they don't fly off my feet as I chase E at the airport this afternoon. To get back to my car, I had to walk through the food court...empty stomach, no kids to chase, NY style pizza. I stopped at Sbarro's and really really enjoyed a slice of cheese pizza, side salad and root beer for a whopping SEVEN DOLLARS. Woo. Back in the day, when I worked cleaning snake and gerbil cages at the pet store in the Westchester Mall, I would get a slice of pizza during my lunch break for 75 cents. Worth every penny, even though I was only making $4.50 an hour.
That pizzeria had a sign advertising their low prices...it said "Cheese pizza, by the slice, .75 cents." Mrs. Greenfield, my algebra teacher, told us one day that she once handed them a penny for a slice and told them to keep the change. We thought that was hysterical. The next day, she said, they had covered over the rogue decimal point with a piece of tape. Ya gotta love a math teacher with a sense of humor. Wonder what she would think about me paying $4 for a slice. I guess it's no worse than paying $80 for a pair of shoes that don't even fit.