A few days ago I drove down to Casa Grande, met up with fraternity brother Tom, then headed on down to the Tucson area to visit Al, another fraternity brother. I left LHC at 7:30 AM, freshly showered and shaved. Stopped twice en route to CG for bladder breaks and a burger, arrived at Tom's shortly after noon. We chatted awhile, had a brew and then I headed off to the guest bedroom for my daily nap.
I sat down on a chair and bent down to remove my sandals - and was flabbergasted at what I saw! My right foot was encased in Keens, my left foot in one of the cheap-ass knockoffs I wear around home. I laughed out loud. Couldn't believe I'd left home without noticing that. Couldn't believe I'd stopped twice and hadn't noticed. Couldn't believe Trish hadn't noticed either.
After my nap, sandals back on my feet, I showed them to Tom and his wife, Martha. They hadn't noticed the mismatch earlier, were quite delighted when I pointed it out. And, later, so was Al. We went out to dinner at Al's and again when Tom and I returned to CG. My attempts to have everyone wear mismatched footwear out to dinner fell on deaf ears. Guess they just aren't ready to embrace that level of senility. I'm confident they will embrace it in due time, although, given my commanding lead, it's doubtful they'll ever catch up.
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