Still Dragging My Foot

Michael Manerowski

Oh, my friends, I beg of you. I implore you. I entreat you. I warn you. Strictly. Severely. Look, do not cultivate the habit of ignoring the tasks set before you in life. For too long, my friends, for far too long, I have been dragging my foot. So long has it been, I do not even recall what it is I have been dragging my foot about all this time.

Take heed, my friends, and listen. To drag one’s foot is far worse than any other form of ignoring or delaying that which needs getting done. At least with, say, procrastination, one ends up getting the thing in question done, since a deadline usually, eventually pinches one into action.

To put something off can be quite harmless, since putting something off implies that you will get the thing done at least sooner or later, if not after a long while.

But, my dear friends, to drag your foot on something, that can become quite habitual and second nature. So much so that it can become part of the way you navigate the world. And nothing about such behavior suggests you will ever get done whatever needs getting done.

I can attest, dear friends, since I have been dragging my foot on something for quite some time. You see, I’m even forced to speak in general terms, saying, “for some time,” since I cannot provide a specific timeframe, as I do not recall exactly when I began the practice of dragging my foot.

Oh, many years ago, I had something that needed getting done. You understand, some paperwork, some form to fill out, some application to submit, some marriage proposal to make, some sin to confess … some thing or other to get done. There may even have been a couple of things. Perhaps several. And I did not want to do them. Though I do not now recall why. Perhaps because I was afraid of discovering the truth, afraid of failure, or because I did not want to be bothered with the busy work. Either way, it was at that point that I began the practice of dragging my foot.

To start, dragging my foot was quite the nuisance. One must learn to amble about in a bit of a shuffling, limping manner. And, for the novice, it can be awkward and cumbersome, and it takes a bit of getting used to, as you can imagine, if you’re going to go about dragging your foot everywhere you go. On that, I was determined to succeed, lest I stop dragging my foot and would be faced with getting done the things I was so determined not to do.

To drag my right foot, you see, I first needed to step forward with my left leg, while leaning on my right foot. Then, to proceed in my ambulatory progression, along the surface of the sidewalk, I would drag the right foot forward, making a loud, delightful, scraping sound. Skerrrrrrrrip! Then I would repeat, stepping my left leg forward, and so on.

Mind you, I was able to master the motions after many months, but it took quite some time to walk from desk to hall, say, down hall to bathroom, and back again. Easily took twice the amount of time. But I was committed. I was dragging my foot, by golly. And nothing else much mattered.

Now, after some time, I was so focused on mastering the foot-dragging, I all the more neglected and forgot what it was I had been dragging my foot about in the first place. What’s worse, as a result of all the foot-dragging, I used my right foot so infrequently that it took on severe numbness and soon grew weak and then altogether turned lame. All muscle was eventually lost. If you can believe that.

In due course, whilst continually dragging my foot around, wearing down the soles of many a good shoe, I might add, I soon lost the ability to utilize my foot. In any capacity.

Years passed. Eventually, doctors told me the foot needed amputation, blackened and shriveled as it had become by lack of proper blood flow.

Doctors had to plumb cut it off.

Now I’ve got a stump down there, just above where my ankle should be. I still can amble about, mind you. In much the same way as when dragging my foot. You’ll recall: striding forward with my left leg while leaning on the right stump. Now, however, I swing the stump forward, so as not to drag it along the sidewalk and make matters worse for the rest of my leg.

Now my walking rate is about three times slower than in the days before I started the foot-dragging in the first place. I know, I know. It’s a burden. But, still, I am determined to drag my foot.

Now, my friends, I bet you’re wondering how I possibly could be dragging my foot after the amputation. That is a reasonable question. However, the answer is quite simple. You see, obstinately wanting to continue my practice of foot-dragging, lest I might have to get on with doing that which so long ago needed doing, I tied the cut off foot to a rope and tied the rope about my waist. Now I drag the foot behind me. Everywhere I go.

Still to this day, I do not recall what it is I have been dragging my foot about. But, look behind me and you shall see that I still am. Tied to my rope, as I limp along, drags my shriveled, blackened, good-for-little-but-dragging-about foot.

Image: Shinjo2001, Wikimedia Commons