But my Chacos, the shoes that I have worn since surgery on my left foot, the shoes that have prevented surgery on my right foot, that have just the perfect sponginess to support my foot, and that along with my Birkenstocks (stylish----c'est moi) have kept me comfortably shod all these years, they have
GONE MISSING !!!!!
|Please, please come back...|
Now logic is my middle name (not really---it's Louise), and logic tells me that shoes can't possibly disappear in one's own home. But I have looked everywhere (except where they are, obviously), and they are just flat-out missing. I grilled my recent houseguests: two daughters, four grandchildren, and I do mean GRILLED, until they almost r u n n o f t, and they all denied having any involvement with the disappearance of my shoes.
Yes, I have other shoes. Yes, I even have other Chacos, but these were my most recent purchase, and my favorite.
I may have to give up and go to the store for another pair, and then, I am sure, the missing shoes will show up.
In other news, we all had a great time, in spite of the nearly constant rain. It rained, sometimes ALL day, each and every day that they were all here. (It's raining now.) On Monday though, the rain held off until later in the day, and my husband, daughters and grandchildren had a great time at Six Flags. I, martyr that I am, stayed out of the heat and sun and off of the scary rides and made the aforementioned Ile Flottante. My husband is out of town every other week, so I rarely have
However, I need my grandchildren to answer for this affront:
WHY, oh WHY, are there goldfish left in this container? WHY didn't you eat them all? Grandpa doesn't like them, so now it's left to me to finish them off.
Martyr, thy name is Knittergran.
UPDATE: Chacos found! Yay!