Out, Damned Spot: Hamlet and Heels

I was walking along the other day when I heard the unmistakable sound of one of my brand-new red patent Betseyville pumps scuffing against the other.  Sure enough, when I looked down, there was a faint but unmistakable mark marring the inside of the left shoe.  Although certainly not a matter of life or death or even the stuff of a Shakespearean drama, I was peeved, as we shoe enthusiasts are wont to be in such situations.  I had to wait the day out before slathering the offending scuff with Vaseline.  Thankfully, it worked.  If only there had been such a quick fix for Gertrude.

P. S.  Contrary to my mention of him in this post, I don't like Shakespeare.  English major or not, I've always found him to be dull and dreary and flat-out boring, a sentiment I'm sure I've echoed at least once throughout the course of this blog.   Nevertheless, the Hamlet references were tumbling through my head before I could stop them, and there was nothing for it but to go ahead and post, as is so often the case with easily amused souls such as myself.