Old shoes

I have an old pair of shoes in my wardrobe that I only occasionally wear. They were favourites, once upon a time, but slipped into the void at the back of my wardrobe where old, worn out shoes go to hide. Every now and then I take them out and put them on and wonder why I haven’t worn them more often.

They are molded to the shape of my feet and support me in all the places they need to. They are a bit tatty looking — the faux suede has rubbed in places and the heels bear the very distinct signs that I walk on the outside of my feet — and when I am deciding whether to wear them or not I usually decide not because of that but they are comfortable and when I am wearing them I tend forget that I’m wearing them.

That’s the way I’m feeling today about work. Like I’d pulled on those old shoes and walked ten miles.

And I didn’t even notice until I arrived home and collapsed in a heap.

I’m still tired but it’s a good tired. The headache has gone and I’m feeling far more positive than I was on Monday afternoon. It’s odd kind of positive, though. I haven’t used Excel in the past two years for much other than keeping a rudimentary budget. No formulae. No fancy data manipulation. No playing around in code behind the scenes. But although my fingers and brain are creaky from under use and lack of maintenance they remember all of this; they remember what they need to do and they remember how they need to do it. None of it has slipped into the void at the back of my brain.

Which is somewhat disturbing, really, unlike the feeling of slipping on old shoes.