To celebrate the coming of Spring (and prevent the further soaking of my pants and winter boots) I decided to break down, embrace my childhood trauma, and buy a pair of rubber boots.
When I was young, rubber boots were big, black, ugly, thick, heavy boots that schmucked and schlooked when you wore them. They were awkward and unbendy and their only purpose was to keep your socks dry except for when they got holes in them. Which I remember being a lot, but I could be biased.
I wandered into Wally Mart and looked around. In the men's section, the dreaded boots of evil sat waiting. In the women's section, they had 4 different options of rubber boots -- all in Hawaiian flower patterns.
I hemmed. I hawed. I stood on my soggy pant leg and decided enough was enough. I picked the least ugly of the group and got to business. They fit, they were water proof, and they were $15.
I bought them.
I left them in the bag by the front door when I got home and went to bed. In the afternoon when I got up, I told The Guy I'd bought rubber boots. He tried to hide his grimace and pretended to like them. I had to laugh and assure him I thought they were hideous too.
I wore them to walk Monty around the neighbourhood. My feet were dry and my pants were too.
But I think even the dog was embarrassed.