Ah shoe fans the joys of cohabiting…
Before Christmas me and Monkey man took the plunge and bought our very first home. A beautiful three bedroom detached house in the country, with lots of room for all his climbing stuff that he seems to hoard, and of course all of my babies (shoes).
Boxing up the babies was like a military operation, involving me and my friend Harriet, fifteen heavy duty cardboard boxes, 267 sheets of tissue paper, an industrial sized roll of bubble wrap, two rolls of box tape and several marker pens. Harriet, queen of organisation, whipped me into shape organising the boxes, barking orders and making detailed descriptions of what was in each box.
Getting the shoes to the new house was rather more difficult, fifteen mega boxes combined with a micro car didn’t make for easy manoeuvring. However what was more of a feat was trying to get them into the house and unpacked without monkey man seeing quite how many pairs I actually owned…
Me and Harriet were like stealth agents on a mission (to get in the zone we even had on our darkest sunglasses, a little over the top considering we were in the UK in December. First we had to check the coast was clear of Monkey man (or any of his many brothers) then with extreme skills (the boxes were extremely heavy) we carefully lifted them into the house and up the stairs to one of the bedrooms.
Of course the stealth mission didn’t quite go to plan when Monkey Man showed up unannounced, and I managed to drop one of the heavy boxes on Harriet’s toe (no shoes on your feet in the new house! Except mine of course). This then resulted in some rather heated discussions, which mainly consisted of the sentences ‘You’ve got HOW many?’ and ‘Why didn’t you tell me?! Where ARE we going to put them all?!’