I planned this blog.

I have never claimed to be the smartest, wittiest or the perfect person. I do make some mistakes and I'll be the first to admit that, most of the time anyway.

Saturday, I decided to tackle the chore of cleaning our room. See, in my house my room is the dumping grounds for the "I don't know where it goes" and the "to lazy to put in storage" and don't forget the "I have no time to deal with" junk. It also is the last room I clean, because let's face it, who sees my room besides Jonathan and myself and the kids?

I decided to thin out my shoes. I admit, I am some what of a shoe-a-holic. At one point I had over one hundred pairs. Since being diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, I can no longer wear heels. Doesn't mean I don't, I just am in a lot of pain when I do. I also tend to hold on to the really comfortable shoes, until they completely fall apart. I threw two pairs of my shoes away! I think over the last year I have dwindled down to less then fifty pairs. Jonathan still thinks I need to get rid of more, but that will come in time, I suppose.

What started all this was the fact that Jonathan bought three new pairs of shoes, and asked me to throw out his old ones. I figured I'd thin out mine while I was at it. He was so happy to have our room almost normalized! Mind you I was doing this with five kids in and out, refereeing a few arguments and doing other motherly stuff. So my mind was as usual on a 100 other things as well as the task at hand.

Yesterday morning Johnathan went to get ready for work. He asked if I knew where his boots were. I told him we'd have to find them when we got home, because we were already running late. He assumed that one of the twins had tried them on and walked out with them.

After work I get a phone call that goes something like this:

My boots are gone.

I'm sure they are there somewhere.

Nope, I searched the whole house, they are gone.

Honey, obviously you must of not searched EVERY where, because they are somewhere.

Nope, they are gone, one of the kids owes me a new pair of boots.

When was the last time you saw them?

Saturday morning.

I cleaned the room Saturday, are you sure they're not in the closet? Maybe they got thrown out accidentally.

They wouldn't have been thrown away.

During this time a strong picture came into my head of the boots in a garbage bag. I tried calling back, but there was no answer. I prepared mentally to come home to a grumpy man who just lost his new pair of pretty expensive boots. About a half hour later I got a call from him, that went something like this:

You threw my boots out.

Did I?

You know when you throw a man's boots out you throw him out with them?

I didn't do it on purpose. I love you.

(I couldn't tell if he was serious or not)

Honey, I love you, I didn't mean to. I am sorry.

Laughter......I guess now you'll have a funny story to blog about tomorrow!

He's right, I do! Thanks honey.