I took geology, geography, and nutrition as my science credits in college in order to avoid the more reputable sciences such as biology, chemistry, and physics.
I recall a few things from these classes: peanut butter and whole wheat bread is the best combination. I can't remember why, but there is some thing about the whole grain and protein.
I also remember that earthquakes are measured on a scale that is exponential. Now thats a nice big scientific word. So the difference between a 6.5 and 7.5 earthquake is far greater than the difference between a 2.5 and 3.5.
All that to explain that my level of pure crazy is much light the Richter magnitude scale.
1 pair of shoes in the hall - a deep sigh
2 pairs of shoes in the hall - eye roll, followed by "hey pick up these shoes"
3 pairs of shoes in the hall - steam comes out of my ears.
If any two of the three pairs belong to one single member of the household it is equivalent to a giant earthquake that also sends a tsunami rushing into the poor village a thousand miles away.
WHY????????
Why can't these people I live with put their explicit word shoes away?
I provide and entire 6ft wide closet with nothing in it except hung up coats and the entire closet floor available for shoes to be tossed in, or organized nicely on the tri-level shoe rack also conveniently located in the closet.
But no.
Nearly every. single. day. of. my. life. I can't actually get to my coat in the coat closet because someone leaves a pair of shoes lodged in the other side of the door, so I can't fully open the closet and retrieve my coat.
And a super fave of mine is when it is blatantly obvious that a person was walking in the house and just flat walked right out of the shoes leaving them in the middle of the walkway in a manner that it would appear the person wearing the shoes was kidnapped by aliens or perhaps the rapture took place and the shoes had to stay.
It is really great to attempt to step out into the garage and slip on a pair of cleats left half on the top step and half off. The only thing saving me from a broken hip was that when I slip off the step I land on a pile of rubber boots and flip-flops which provide a nice soft rubbery cushion.
The problem with the shoe drama is that once I get all amped up over the shoe, there are aftershocks that follow due to finding left out dishes, socks tucked between the cushions, candy wrappers in the mini-blinds and batteries strewn about the floor. Maybe if I hadn't already lost my mind over the shoes, I'd have some grace for the batteries but all rational thinking flew out the window when I attempted to dodge shoe mines all the way down the hall.
I probably have 50 pairs of shoes. Not a single pair are laying in a hall, on a stair, or on the table.
If I can manage to keep track of all those shoes I seriously don't think it is too much to ask for the dude who owns 2 pairs to PUT THEM IN THE CLOSET!!!!!!!!
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