During the week, I have a banana and a cup of soymilk for breakfast. This morning, I poured my soymilk, looked over at the spot where I keep the bananas, and through my early morning fuzziness thought, “Good God, someone took my banana. Great. Now what do I eat?”
The flaw in this logic is that I’m currently living by myself. I knew that it wasn’t possible for anyone to take my last banana, but I briefly entertained the thought of a banana thief.
Before it became The Case of the Missing Banana (kind of like last post’s Case of the Missing Needles), I decided to accept that I miscalculated when I bought bananas last weekend and that I had my last one Thursday morning.
I did, however, look in the trashcan to see if I had mistakenly discarded said banana.
If you write banana enough in a post, you feel a bit foolish.
My grandfather exhibited what we later realized was signs of early dementia in his mid-70s. During phone calls with my mom, he would casually mention that someone broke in and stole his cornbread. Or, the other popular accusation was that someone broke in and left old shoes in his closet. No stealing there, just leaving old things.
Also, Speaking of Shoes
I love my new shoes.
After two years of looking for new black leather shoes, I found the perfect pair on Sierra Trading Post – real leather, little or no heel, no fussiness, and 50% off.
They are perfect little slipper-like shoes, and when I wear them, I imagine little elf cobblers making them (alas, they are made in China…but hopefully not in a sweatshop).