Semi-regular whinge

I can't find my ancient custom-made orthotics. I suspect that I threw them out and I rather wish I hadn't. This in spite of the fact that if I did throw them out as I suspect that I did, I had good reason--the coverings were worn out enough that when I tried to use them last, the orthotics tore up my socks and were rather bad for the feet they were meant to be good for. If I'd been able to find a way to remove the covering material, the orthotics might have been useful underneath some cushioning inserts, but I never did find a way to do that. If it turns out that I didn't throw them out and I eventually find wherever they've been hidden, I will probably try to use them and then throw them out in disgust.

In spite of all their utter uselessness, I do wish I had those old orthotics. Why is that, you ask? Because they were made to fit my feet, that's why. Every nonprescription orthotic insert out there is made to support arches my feet don't have and it hurts and I'm tired of it and I am whining inside my own head right now and it's annoying.

This coming week, I'm going to try once again to find out if how I can visit a podiatrist, even though I belong in the category of person over 21 without diabetes or circulatory problems. There's gotta be a way.