Missing boots and Parmesan paranoia

This is not easy for me but I just have to do it. I have been complaining for weeks about my missing boots. Now that we have massive snow, I have been in serious need of boots for my feet. Here I am complaining about the Imelda wannabe I live with and her collection of ornamentation for her Princess feet and now the whole foot/shoe issue is coming to bite me in the behind.
I do have to say, regarding the allusion to Imelda, and to explain that I need to mention the beloved Imelda Marcos, wife of Ferdinand Marcos of the Philippines’ fame, illustrious wife of the dictator who had immense quantities of footwear, that I have take some flak from readers regarding my shoe stance. I must say to them that men do understand the true issues and that we need to periodically poke fun at things in order to deal with things that are perhaps beyond our control and might even give us some pleasure. We just cannot always admit that!
Today, when rummaging in the living room closet, I decided to move the portable crib (with the name I can never remember) found there. Stow and Crate? Stow and Play? Whatever! In doing so, I solved the mystery of the last few weeks, the missing boots. I must mention her that my “cowboy boots” are still MIA, however.
I had mentioned that I was in a store and asked to check out boots and I refused. I had finally resorted to looking for sales on them only to find out that MK had taken matters into her own hands and purchased some new Sorel, top of the line boots at a decent price from Nordstrom rack. They arrived yesterday and I sheepishly pulled them out of the packaging, admired them, and somewhat moved on, trying to hide the intense pleasure that they were bringing me. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.
Today, I find the offenders and I offer you a photo of them. Hidden in a backpack where I apparently had put them, were the boots I have been looking for, making their appearance a day after the new boots arrived. To be honest, in making a comparison of the two pairs, the new ones look like Porsches next to Ford Escorts. So, I guess I shall deal with my pride and just accept them.
I must publicly apologize for the Parmesan paranoia that I have put upon my family members. They deserve better. On the other hand, my sons throughout the years have literally fed my paranoia by taking my things and not telling me about them. But, I am really sorry nonetheless.
So now I have two pairs of boots…”Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose,” meaning The more things change, the more they stay the same. I guess I just need to reform, maybe the days of stealing Dad’s items are long gone and I just have to deal with my own ridiculous nature.

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