Why Would My Boots Have Been Where They Were Found? An Editorial.

It should have been a joyous occasion; a time to celebrate the achievement at hand. My sweetly-autocratic mom found the pair of boots that we have collectively been looking for since the beginning of winter.

It has probably been the hottest politicized issue in the household since the first snow fall. She was adamant that they were in my apartment and I, sensibly living in a milder climate, didn’t really care either way. They weren’t in the normal places that boots should be so I concluded that they were not.

I didn’t even care until she found them and now it’s the only thing I care about. Not because they mean that much to me but clearly because I’m an acrimonious loser. I like to think that I’m a practical person who thinks logically about a problem, at least that’s what I tell myself to mask commitment issues. If I’m wrong about something, it simply needs to make sense, otherwise I will lead the rising rebellion in a deadly battle to take down everyone who opposed me.

Please humour me as we are about to embark into a full investigation here. I will present to you the facts and you will decide if this was a reasonable spot to find the boots. In order to do this I’ll have to start about a year and a half ago.

September 12, 2015- I pack my things and move into my new apartment 400km from my family. Things are great, no one was fighting about boots.

December 25, 2015-Christmas time comes and I return home to celebrate the holidays. I eagerly unwrap my gifts and get boots (and socks to boot #pun).

January 5, 2016- Spent from the Christmas season and ready to return to Toronto I take my haul of presents (boots included) back to my apartment to begin my dry-soled lifestyle.

Mid February, 2016- My roommate gets wind of a more suitable apartment for two grown boot-fortunate men than the one we were in. We decide to toss in an offer, and it gets accepted beginning our whirlwind journey 5 minutes away.

Easter 2016- I surprise my family with time off work and bring back my winter things so I have less things in the way.

April 27-May 1, 2016- I celebrate my birthday with some friends who have come down to help (read watch) us move and we use boot-shaped shot glasses. My roommate and I pack up our belongings into any and every box we have, including old computer and video game boxes, and begin our new lives in a different living space.

May 2, 2016- I unpack my belongings into my new room putting the empty boxes underneath my bed to begin their jobs collecting dust.

Months go by without thinking about boots because there was sunshine and good times that didn’t need footwear capable of withstanding -30C weather. I visit home a few more times and my parents visit as well. When the season to wear boots comes, I look for them in my closet and near my other winter things but with no success.

FAST-FORWARD TO THE WEEKEND OF FEBRUARY 4th, 2017.

MY MOM, ON A TOP SECRET RECONNAISSANCE MISSION, FINDS MY BOOTS IN THE GUITAR HERO BOX THAT I PUT UNDER THE BED EMPTY 9 MONTHS BEFORE.

The argument reaches a new high and I get told I’m “lazy” for not looking in the box I had reason to believe was empty. My question is why would a reasonable man, who put that box under his bed empty, think to look somewhere for boots that he never would have put them ever? Boots aren’t a guitar. Am I lazy for not looking in places that they never should have been? If you were looking for rosemary, wouldn’t you conclude that you were all out if you didn’t have any on your spice rack?

No this whole thing doesn’t add up at all. I vow that she won’t get away with this injustice.

Come to think of it, the room to my door was closed when she “found” them. She easily could have brought them with her having found them at her house and staged the whole thing!

I honestly need to know how people feel about this. It eats at me. Who wins this battle? Does she win because the boots were “here”? Is it a tie because although they were “here”, she was the one who would have stored them in this box as a way to “clean up” the way only mothers can do that actually makes your life marginally harder? Or do I win because now my toes will stay toasty when otherwise they would freeze and fall off?

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s