The lost box

It’s here. It’s all here. All of it. They didn’t leave anything behind. I have every worthless box of materialism I’ve been dreaming about, and I’m half tempted to trade it for a furnished apartment in the US countryside.

This house is huge. Huge translates to 4000 sq feet and six levels (some of them are half levels). It’s wonderful to have so much space, but getting from the basement to the top floor bathroom is kind of like hiking Mt. Sinai minus the camel and religious inspiration. With four kids–the baby has been particularly needy this week–constantly needing our attention, the unpacking has been like unwelcome leisure. Slow and mostly unproductive.

Enter amazing girlfriends who don’t mind taking over and making the big decisions. Honestly, if they hadn’t shown up and starting putting things in place we’d probably still be dining on slabs of cardboard. You see, I’ve been a little preoccupied with a personal treasure hunt and can’t seem to get my brain on the right track.

It has been five days since our things arrived. Three truckloads of household goods gets dropped off and my super smart plan was simple: find my shoes.

The shoes finally surfaced on day three. I specifically remember pulling out two pair of Jason’s shoes, then gazing into the heavy, overcrowded trash bag at my beloved collection of feminine vanity, trying to keep the drool contained as I reminded myself that it wasn’t the time nor the place for high heels. I handed the bag to Jason, told him they  were to head upstairs to my trunk…

And I’ve never seen them again.

It’s been three days since that chance parting. No trash has gone out, no boxes have been donated. Where. Are. My. Shoes.

I’ve had three other fresh sets of eyes scour my house and surrounding village, all to no avail. I’m tempted to call over the mayor (next door) and see what he can do for me.

Believe me, this is not a laughing matter. I’m not just perplexed, I’m now in a full blown panic. Do you have any idea what it’s like to replace an entire collection of beautiful heels? Four years ago we had a puppy (may he RIP and enjoy an eternity of Heavenly leather) who destroyed 3/4 of my shoe collection. He was only interested in my shoes, obviously the pooch had good taste. It has taken me years to regroup.

Finally yesterday I realized that I haven’t knelt down and prayed about  the missing shoe bag yet. I very quickly dropped the China and hit my knees, knowing that prayer would be my strongest ally in this war against cardboard thievery. Honestly, the moment I thought about praying for my shoes all my anxiety disappeared.

Today I’m going to find my shoes. Come he!! or high cardboard, they will be found.



  1. I share your anxiety!

  2. No matter how careful the thorough the move, the moving demons always eat one box. I hope it hasn’t been your shoe box.

  3. I broke my favorite pair of black strappy heels on Sunday. My dear dear dear husband – in his ignorance – said that I have three other pairs of black heels so there was no need to procure replacements. But those other heels aren’t strappy! He just doesn’t get it.

  4. It would have been hilarious if you’d said “come HEEL or high cardboard…” hahaha So I read it that way just to chuckle a little. I will pray for your missing shoes as well, that really is important stuff right there! 😀