That time I lost my shoes and found them in my husband’s bag

Are y’all getting tired of my humorous tales of losing things? No? Good. Here’s another one. Way back on New Years Eve, Mac, Ashley, and I headed over to Clarendon for a party. We got a hotel room because we’re cool, so Mac and I packed one bag. I threw in my trusty Nine West leather pumps, and off we went.

We ate Five Guys, we partied, we decided we were old and would rather hang out in our hotel room (aging, it’s a bitch). The next day, we went home, and I grabbed our clothes to put in the laundry. Mac unpacks (so I think), and the bag is pretty much untouched after he deploys.

Flash forward several months. I’m going to a career fair and can’t find my black pumps. I chalk it up to not having cleaned, so I grab a pair of flats. I have a more in-depth look after the fair and genuinely can’t find them. Now, I’m concerned. These shoes are sartorial perfection: classic, comfy, pointed toes for a lean look, a low heel for easy walking. I also bought them at the Nine West outlet, and the closest one of those is 35 minutes away on a good day. I work at a mall, ergo I do not go shopping.

Flash forward to two weeks ago. I have a second interview with a company and desperately need these shoes. Still no dice. I’ve searched everywhere but our storage unit. I resign myself to having lost them and buy another pair of pumps. I have the interview, and all is well (and no, I haven’t heard back from the company).

This past week, I’m cleaning and packing a change of clothes for Mac. I happen to move his bag from its long term home in front of his dresser. Guess what falls out. Yep, my shoes. Forgive me for not checking the bag I forgot we took for the shoes I didn’t need for months.