Jane likes shoes.
A recent count put the number of pairs of shoes she has onboard at somewhere north of 13, and that is only the Winter Collection. There is also a Summer Collection, which is apparently languishing off somewhere in storage.
Now I can only speculate here, but apparently there are shoes for rainy days, shoes for sunny days (but only Tuesdays), shoes for shopping at Fred Meyer, shoes for shopping at Safeway. There are shoes for black dresses, shoes for black pants, and shoes for black shorts. There are shoes for brown clothing, shoes for red clothing. I am uncertain if there are shoes for grey clothing. And tho this is the Winter Collection, the other day when we had to walk down the dock to shore in 6" of slush, Jane had no shoes which were suitable.
On those few occasions when I have been unwise enough to broach the subject of stowage devoted to shoes, I have been reminded of the number of tools I have aboard. This is when I pontificate on the need to be able to fix just about anything while underway, and the fact that a #1 Phillips screwdriver can in no way substitute for a #2 Phillips screwdriver. Then I reflect that the collection of wires and hose ends occupying the stowage behind the dinette seating has real value - after all, it once got us into Everett. Jane, on the other hand, feels that just about any tool-needing situation can be faced bravely with... a chopstick. (I must admit that on one occasion, a chopstick was the perfect tool, tho I can't quite remember what that occasion was.)
And so after 40 years of marriage, there is compromise. I do not (too often) draw attention to the size of Jane's abundant shoe collection, and she does not (too often) threaten to pitch my meager tool and spares collection over the side.
And we keep a supply of chopsticks aboard.