On The Way

By Olivia Fowler

Olivia Fowler

Have you ever thought that so-called inanimate objects really aren’t inanimate at all? Well, I have. There’s a children’s storybook about how a child’s toys come to life at night and have amazing adventures. The movie “Toy Story” probably stole this idea

I have a theory, never disproved to my satisfaction, that this is what happens to many useful things I depend upon to get through the day. All I ask is that someone prove me wrong, and I’ll happily check into an asylum.

Maybe this doesn’t happen at your house, but it does happen at mine. It’s evening and you’ve come inside for the day. The first action taken after you close the front door is to kick off your shoes.

Now if you don’t do this and keep them on, there’s no need to read further. You are one of those people who are organized to the point of obsession and probably don’t wonder where anything is, as you already have all the answers.

But, for everybody else in the world, after those shoes are removed and you’re no longer concerned about them, you may leave them beside your chair, in the hall, by the front door or possibly in the hall closet.

There they remain until needed the next morning. Or so you think.

The next morning after you’ve run around the bedroom in your slippers getting ready for the day, you may be ready to leave the house, except for one thing.

Your shoes have disappeared. “Oh my goodness,” you may exclaim. “I can’t find my shoes!”

The next 15 minutes may involve searching the closet, looking under the bed, behind the couch and under the table. If you are fortunate enough to find your shoes so that you may go to work or school, mark my words: they are never where you left them.

Now some may say that you just don’t remember where you left them. But I know this isn’t true. If I take my shoes off in the den and set them side-by-side beside my chair and do not touch them or wear them again, then that’s where I should find them in the morning.

Why, then, are they not there?

I believe that the moment I turn my back, my shoes take on a life of their own and run merrily through the house until they’ve exhausted themselves and then fall asleep whereever they’ve wound up.

Clearly, there can be no other explanation.

So those who express exasperation at the situation and make observations aloud, such as, “You’d lose your head if it weren’t attached” could be called insensitive and judgmental.

These superior beings are never on the phone being given important information which absolutely must be written down with neither a pen to write with nor a notepad to write upon, even though these objects were close at hand just before the call was made.

They always know where their cellphones are, as well as their car keys, glasses and the book they were reading.

Objects belonging to these fortunate folks do not live a life of their own. Unlike my own possessions, which at any given time may be traveling the world or playing poker at an undisclosed location, the objects belonging to these orderly few are always found where and when expected.

I’m sure it makes for an orderly and predictable life. But think how dull it must be to always know where everything is and to have your affairs go exactly as you think they should.

Fortunately for many of us, we live our lives from moment to moment. If we are able to find our missing shoes, fine. If not, we will leave the house in our bedroom slippers, and there’s nothing wrong with that.