Creativity doesn’t end with card stock

Here we have a fun and funky visual oxymoron:

A rain boot which leaks.

There is not much point to a rain boot which leaks. For a while, I made do by putting a plastic bag over my foot before I slipped it into the boot. Because I’m lazy frugal wanted to put off buying another pair until next spring.

And then the second boot sprang a leak. And somehow, I’m not sure why, this put me over the edge. I was NOT going to wear these stupid things again. It’s not winter boot weather yet, but my winter boots are perfectly capable of resisting the dew on the grass.

Yes, really. My rain boots were leaking not when I stomped through ankle-deep puddles or hauled the dog out of the ooze along the river. They were leaking if I walked too far across the dew-drenched field at the dog park. Leaking to the point of having to change my socks when I got home because of the big soggy spot on one side.

And yet my frugal soul really does cringe when I have to physically toss a piece of clothing into the garbage. I rarely do it, in fact. Outgrown clothes are given to younger children. Worn shirts are stripped of buttons. Holey socks become cuffs on old sweat pants. Jeans become jackets become pencil cases. Pretty nearly all fabric can be torn and turned into either handkerchiefs or cleaning rags. I really, really, really hate throwing something away without getting any subsequent use of it at all. But leaky rain boots? You can’t foist leaky rain boots off onto some unsuspecting charity. Leaky rain boots are pointless, really. They really are just plain old garbage.

Really.

They are.

(I can’t stand it.)

Besides, I don’t need rain boots right now. What I need, and don’t have, are some sort of footwear like gardening clogs, that enclose my foot but can be slipped on without using your hands so I can take the two steps out to get the mail in, or go the ten metres from the front door to the street to the side drive to put the garbage bins away. That sort of thing. When you’re only going to be outside 20 seconds and really don’t want to spend 30 seconds lacing boots. Don’t even want to bend over to pull on your boots.

What I needed, in other words, was something like this:

Heh.

(That discolouration on the inside? Not dirt. Dye. From the bread bags I was wearing inside them…)

As rain boots they leaked, yes. But as clogs, which will never be in use more than a couple of minutes at a time? They’re PERFECT. I did learn that in order for them to stay on really well, the foot opening should be a bit smaller. And yes, the edge is a bit rough. I could seal the edge them with something — half the width of black duct tape, perhaps.

Maybe I will. But maybe I won’t. Because they’re perfect.

And the rest of the boot?

Ta-dah!!! Cut into four circles, stripped of the fabric backing, thoroughly scrubbed and disinfected, they were transformed into …

a set of truly funky rubber coasters. Hee.

I ended up throwing out only a quarter of the original boots. Practically no waste, clogs I’ve wanted for ages, AND a set of coasters. I just feel so damned virtuous!