One pair red suede shoes.
Last seen Tuesday.
I am a creature of habit. I take my shoes off, generally in the same place. We have a shoe rack, also. Which we use. And my house, although cluttered, what with a young and very energetic boy on premise, is not that cluttered. I mean, it could be worse.
So where are my red suede shoes?
Red, Red, Red Suede Shoes…
There is a certain young man in the house who likes to wear his mother’s shoes and stomp about the house. He also likes to hide things. I’m not saying that he has anything to do with it…
…but they are nowhere to be found. Not in the closet. Or the other closet. Or any closet. Not on the shoe rack. Not in the washing machine (I just checked). Not under the sofa. Not under the bed. Not in the dryer. Not in the trash bin. Not in the recycle bins. Not under my desk. Not under the table. Not under the rocking chair. Not in the cedar chest. Not in the file cabinet. Not in the laundry baskets. Not in the toy box. Not in the pantry. Not in the oven. Not in the armoire. Not on the porch. Not behind the sofa. Not in the bathtub. Not in the garage. Not in the fridge (yes, I looked). Not in the sand box. Not in the garden box.
I LOOKED! I can’t find them anywhere.
Not under the sink. The place where I keep the little compost bin. The one that I keep forgetting to diligently empty outside. The one that is an impressive breeding ground for fruit flies and mold. The one that is now in the garbage bin. Because I can’t bring myself to wash it in all it’s ickiness, and recycle it properly (although I did first empty it in the outside compost bin). And I’m tired of stalking fruit flies with my inhumane airborne insect electrocution device (compliments of Mr. Gadget). It’s them or me, and I must prevail, humane or not. War is waged.
But where are my shoes? They are my favorite shoes. It remains a mystery.
