First year of marriage. One of our many arguments. Probably about who did more work around our teeny-tiny apartment.
All of a sudden I hear something zing past my ear, flying down the hall. Was that a . . . shoe?
And then he said, "AND WOULD YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING ABOUT ALL THOSE SHOES LYING ALL OVER THE PLACE?!?!"
I admit it. I have a small, very small, itty-bitty problem with shoes. I love 'em.
Call me Imelda. I can never have enough.
But today I realized that 24 years after that first shoe argument, I still haven't changed. I still leave my shoes all over the house.
Here's what I found when I got home this morning.
This pair in the kitchen.
This pair by the front door.