Shoe Litter, and Snow Balls

I just received a comment from a young lady, Miss Lou, who has a very entertaining blog. She also likes shoes. I was going to send her the link for my entry where I gathered up all of the shoes from around the house so I could vacuum, as directed.

Instead, to commemorate this entry, my 550th, I thought I’d just touch on that subject one more time. Besides, I can’t find the entry. It would take too long.

So, here’s the photos I took of that memorable day …

These are my shoes I returned to the bedroom. You might recognize the old brown Nike Airs from yesterday. Though the new shoes are very comfortable, I’ve had these things for so long they just cling to my feet.

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And, here’s a week’s worth of Diane’s shoe litter. I took all of these to the bedroom, too, but not in one trip. I thought about stuffing them into her shoe closet to see if she would notice, but a sudden burst of clarity overcame me causing me to simply leave them like this.

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Yes, she has a shoe closet. It’s cedar-lined, and accessible quickly from any point in the house in case of a shoe emergency. That’s it, at the end of the hall.DSC_8697

Inside you’ll notice that the top four shelves are pretty neat, then the organization descends into chaos. The reason, I think, is because the top four shelves are for shoes that don’t get worn as often as those on the bottom three shelves, and the floor.DSC_8698

Every once in a while she will dig into the closet to find something appropriate for whatever she’s got on, and toss me a question, like, “have you seen those cute little shoes with the mosaic things on top, that tie in the back? I think they’re brown.”

Though she will deny it, this is code for, “Jerrie, please look around and see if you can find those cute little shoes … and don’t stop until you do.” I promptly get on it  because I’m a good married man, and, if I don’t, I’ll likely forget which is not a good idea because that’s like ignoring the code.

Not too long ago I would have simply answered, “No,” and gone about my business. Since learning the code, life is a lot less stressful.

Yesterday, Jennifer and Lydia appeared for a brief visit after which we retired to the snow-covered front yard to conduct a minimal search for the hat Gilligan buried the day before. After discovering that the snow had thawed enough to make outstanding snowballs, the search was called off and the battle was on. Lydia cheated and ran all the way around the house and got into their car in the driveway, but Jennifer stuck it out and took a beating. In retaliation, she buried the pullover that she was bringing to me because her mother didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be running around in the snow in a T-shirt. Had I known she was delivering the pullover to me, I would have delayed my attack. Instead, I paid the price.

Then I went after Lydia in the car. She wasn’t quick enough to lock the door so I was able to flush her out and started lobbing bombs onto her over the car. It wasn’t very successful, but I had her mightily worried for a while.

Oh. Diane went to the doctor today and learned she has bronchitis. She got new meds to ensure she’s healthy enough to fly to Hawaii with me next week. If not, guess I’ll have to leave her home. Hate to do that but, you know, the tickets are paid for.

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