We couldn’t find her sneakers anywhere. They weren’t in the travel bag, under the bench in the mudroom, in either car, at friends’ houses, in the closet or under the bed. After two days, we gave up and bought a new pair sneakers.
The result of buying new sneakers was as prompt as it was predictable: later that day we found the missing sneakers while making supper. They were in the refrigerator. In the crisper with the lettuce and carrots and celery. My wife and I were pretty sure that even my post-call fatigue and her toddler-induced-fog would not have caused US to put them there. Here is how the conversation went:
Us: We found your old sneakers.
Her: Good.
Us: Do you know where we found them?
Her: Nope.
Us: In the refrigerator.
Her: Oh.
Us: We didn’t put them there.
Her: Oh.
Us: Do you know how they got in the refrigerator?
Her: Yes.
Us: How?
Her: I put them there.
Us: You put them there? Why?
Her: My feet were hot.