Tuesday night, Jon took me to dinner for my birthday. We went to Red Lobster and I throughly enjoyed a pound and a half of snow crab legs, ceasar salad and baked potato.
Who has room for dessert? I didn't.
After we finished dinner, we headed to Shopko. I was in need of new tennis shoes; I'm finding myself in them more often for work and the pair I owned were pretty worn out, aka, losing the padding inside the left shoe.
This happens about every 18 months or so.
We've gotten fortunate enough to hit a major sale every time I get to the point where "okay, I have put this off long enough, and I need new shoes NOW". The last three times we've gotten away with a good pair of shoes under forty dollars.
Jon was really helpful in finding the brand I was looking for and he helped me decide between one size or another. I decided on the seven and a half and we started to head for the checkout.
This is when I spotted the section of "wide width". That's so me.
In about 15 seconds, I spotted the shoes I needed in seven and a half wide. Jon put the first box back on the shelf.
Then, as we're wandering the store looking for a glass vase, I keep tripping. Like the floor is jumping up at me about every three steps. Jon teases me about whether my drink was spiked at dinner.
About five minutes go by and suddenly it dawns on me that my shoe is feeling like the fit is wrong. The shoes that I'd worn all night. I stop to the side of the greeting card aisle and then the light goes on.
My half-inch lift is not in my shoe. Where is it then?
I'd left it in the first pair and it was now in the shoes on the shelf.
Thankfully, Jon retrieved it for me then I put it in my shoe and we paid and left.
How weird would it have been for some other woman to find my lift when she tried on that pair of shoes? Good grief.