“How many pairs of black shoes does one woman need?” asked my husband.
I stood in my closet trying to decide which pair to wear.
“I don’t know. They are all different.” I answered.
“But they’re all black. Can’t you just have one pair of black shoes to wear everywhere?” he asked.
I continued to look at my shoes, then at him, and then back at my shoes. The man clearly needed help.
He sees an ocean of black. I see each individual pair. The shiny ones were purchased for a winter wedding. The embellished floral ones were for a party we attended last fall. They hurt my feet so I don’t ever wear them, but they are too cute to throw out. There is the go to casual pair. The black boot that goes with my cable sweater and a pair of ballet flats to keep up with the trends. I love each and every pair of those shoes and look forward to adding to my collection.
“Honey, do they all really look the same to you?” I asked, hesitantly.
“Yup,” he answered.
I stood there staring at my shoes. There must be a way to help him understand. Then it hit me.
“Honey, can you come with me to the garage? I need to ask you something.” I said.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
We walked down to the garage and stood in front of his toolbox. I opened the drawer with all his screwdrivers in it. They were all lined up by size and type. They looked organized and lovingly cared for.
“Are you going to have me fix something?” he asked.
“No. But what do you see here?”
“Screwdrivers….you ok?”
“Yes. Actually I am. Why do you have so many screwdrivers? Can’t you just use one for everything” I asked.
“Each one is used for different situations. I may need a Phillips or a straight edge. Some screws need a larger driver, others a small one. Look! Here is the new one I purchased yesterday to fix the kids bed.” His voice excited. Clearly he liked his screwdrivers and knew what each was meant to do.
I raised my eyebrows up, tilted my head to the left and gave him the best, “Are you with me?” look I could. I could see the understanding moving down his face. When his tongue hit his cheek, I knew I had broken through.
“Your black shoes are like my screwdrivers. Each one serves a purpose.” he stated.
“Thank you.” I said smugly. “I am glad you understand.”
“So, is this the same reason you own so many purses? Earrings too?” he asked as we went back into the house. He was on a roll now.
