All last week I was in a state of mild panic and sadness. The cause? My precious black Pumas that I wear to work every day (that I got for a song at Nordstrom Rack) had gone missing. They’re great because they’re black so they don’t stand out too much, especially when I’m riding up the elevator with someone important who has some impact on my future and with whom I would like to maintain the impression that I am not a slob. I wear them instead of pretty shoes - kept under the desk - because I often have to walk a mile or so of hills on the way either to or from work, depending on how Muni’s feeling. Once home, I usually dump my shoes in front of the coat closet, but last week there was an old dishwasher my usual spot (long story) and I had left other shoes there already. But I was still convinced that’s where I left them as I vaguely recalled plopping them down there on Friday, February 2. But they simply weren’t there. So I relied on my cute, but glaringly obvious, white with blue accents Adidas running shoes all last week, and every night engaged in a game of “maybe I left them ____,” looking in, e.g., the dining room, the garage, and being both disappointed and thoroughly perplexed that I could have lost shoes in my own house.

On several hours of sleep, I finally found my shoes last night. In the living room. Right under the coffee table. Fully visible from my regular location. Now, to be fair, I’d been too busy to watch TV most of the week, but I had been in the living room and in that seat at least two days of the week for some brief period of time and my brain never registered the presence of the shoes I so desperately missed. Thankfully, I get this weekend to sleep and sleep and not work and I have my precious shoes back.