One Shoe, Two Shoe, Red Shoe, Wrong Shoe

There are many times in life when I experience a minor lapse in brain function. Some call it a brain fart (that's just funny), some call it a senior moment (I'm too young for that), others call it a momentary malfunction of educational operation (not really).

But the other day I did what many do, but few show their face to admit. I left the house with two different shoes on. Not just two slip-ons that I only threw on to take my dogs out for a quick pee.

I went into my closet, got my tennis shoes and proceeded to lace them up to brave the wintry conditions. I methodically placed my right foot in the shoe, laced it up. I acknowledged my two panting girls, assuring them that we were going for a w-a-l-k. I then placed my left foot in the left shoes and laced it up as well.

I stood, put on my coat, my hat, my scarf and then hooked KoKo up to her leash. This wasn't the 50 ft. leash that she's accustomed to when Mom is too lazy to walk her. This was her 'we're going for a long walk, you'd better get excited' leash. We made our way out the door, up the street, around the block, through the snow, by the pond and back to our door.

I stomped my feet, banging the piles of snow off of my shoes. Unhooked KoKo. Got food for the girls. Took my coat, my hat, my scarf off and placed them on the coat rack. I went upstairs, started a load of laundry. Went back downstairs to start cutting vegetables for dinner.

I then sat down on the couch with the heating pad on my shoulder and began flipping through channels. In an attempt to get more comfortable, I decided to finally take my shoes off...that's when I noticed...I had two different shoes on.

On my left foot was a Reebok running shoe. On my right was a laced up, double-knotted, Adidas walking shoe. Two, completely different shoes. Different colors. Different styles.

I kept those shoes on. Because it is rare that my husband witnesses my mistakes (let me believe that), I decided to wait until he got home to relieve my feet from their confused state.

I waited to see if my husband noticed. I even asked him if he noticed anything odd. He didn't. (Of course, how many husbands REALLY notice anything about their spouse's wardrobe?) I pointed to my feet and he said, "what?"

So while I can spend more than an hour in my mismatched shoes that I took time to sit and tie...I thank you honey for not noticing (okay, laughing at) my momentary malfunction of educational function.