I resist the change from shoes to boots, of course, largely because the former can be slipped on as is, in the slovenly habit I picked up from Japanese teenagers many decades ago. A shoehorn stops the backs from getting broken down, as inevitably happened to the wakamono's runners, but otherwise shoes are easy wear. Boots must be shoe-horned on and laced through the little catches and tied in a double knot, because no matter how salt-encrusted laces become, they will work themselves loose with walking. Boots are heavier, of course, and I resent clomping about in them everywhere I go.
But also! Boots mean snow. However cold it gets I rarely change to boots before the streets and sidewalks go slippery. And snow, of course, means no bicycle. What I hadn't realized was that no bicycle immediately puts my time sense into a southern meridional mode. Work is twenty minutes away by bike, a good forty minutes away by transit (much walking involved on sidewalks not always cleared) at 3 bucks a pop, and about an hour by foot. Thus I usually walk, and my life becomes much more leisurely thereby. I leave the house about 1 if I have a 3 pm shift, stopping by book stores or coffee shops on the way; I leave work at 6 and get home about 7:30, with a calm evening before me before bath and bed. (And oh am I glad I don't have morning shifts these days, because getting up at 7 for an 8:30 shift used to drain me like a vampire.)
But shoes and bikes sends me straight back to rush-rush-rush western mode. I may be futzing about online, but I do it til the last minute and then pedal frantically to work. I ride home and then wonder how to spend my evening, uncertain as to why I never have this urge just to get out of the house in wintertime. Well, obviously. In boots I've had two hours of exercise, and if I've been shovelling snow, maybe three or four. Of course a sensible person wants only to shower, change into jammies, and spend the evening curled up on the sofa or in the rocking chair, wrapped in quilts or slankets or hanten or all of the above, with a hot beanbag for the achy back muscles, while the wind howls about the windows.
In any case, we had snow again this morning. I put on my boots and walked out to sweep it away, and then wandered out into the laid-back day. When there's snow, just getting there is an achievement in itself and everything else (like the unaccountably clear sidewalk along the north side of Follis, where somebody's salt must have lingered) is gravy. There is much to be said for winter, in the end.
(Part of foot-covering-pain is the orthotics, which must be moved from shoe to boot and back. I have half-soles that will do for the right boot, but the left requires the full one, which is a bloody pain to prise out and put in. Thus my lingering annoyance at this time of year, which is sometimes boots and sometimes shoes and one never knows which.)
(The other thing- possibly TMI- is the fact that left sole orthotic gives me a callus that is hot-wire painful if I happen to step on it, which I do regularly. Thus the morning application of much moleskin and callus cushions that don't really work. I tried callus removers that didn't work either, but that's because the sheet of medicated stickers slipped out of the package so I didn't register its existence. It reappeared in a room-tidy, and I wondered where on earth these medicated thingies came from, but put them on for a few days-- changing every day because they come off in the shower. Didn't notice any difference until one day last week I actually *looked* at the area (it's at the side and not easily visible.) It was startlingly white and very soft: a little peeling removed a thick pad of skin, and I've been owie-free since.)