F is for: Footwear

F is for:  Footwear

It’s a matter of footwear and laundry and my duo doppelgängers and their alter egos coming into the light of day.

Feet, footwear, and socks have always been an issue in our home.  Whether it has to with Edie who made her socks look like flower buds when she removed them.

Yes, these were dirty socks that I gathered.
I referred to them as "tulips".

The day in question,

Evan was dressed to a tee; 

 

Emma was wearing MY

“Woman Who Behave Rarely Make History”

tank top given to me from Edie Marie.

Emma was in the kitchen with me.  We were putting groceries away and such.  I thought Evan was in the restroom.

When all of a sudden, Emma blurts out from nowhere, and once again, I’m clueless, because it’s all in the brainwaves of the phenomenal multiple.  And just for the record, there was silence in the home…

“O, no you don’t

they belong to me‼”

And they both start a whining yell like they were two years old again. 
And I’m supposed to take a side when I have no idea what is really happening. 
They should have figured this out by now in their twenty years of coexistence,
That I cannot read their Twin-Twisted Minds, 
ONLY THEY CAN‼

It’s a wonderful LIFE, when your children reach a certain age, and you can say it like it is:  “Shall I pour myself a drink or call my therapist before I have to deal with this situation?  Can we actually deal with this like we are adults?”  Apparently NOT.  But the police were not called this time for our disruption in the opened-windows of a Florida Winter.

And sush very quietly I poured myself a drink and quietly stated, 

“Socks? 

This is about socks? 

Well, okay then. 

Thank God it’s about something important. 

My finances,

(not to sound like a beauty contestant, but truly)

World Peace & Global Warming,

Came to my mind.

But okay…

SOCKS…

We’ll go with that issue.

Now let's sit down and discuss this like the growned-up people that we are.”

Since Emma said she apparently was with me, I let Evan go first.  And he proclaimed, “This is the only brand I wear; THEY ARE BLACK JUST LIKE MINE; and wow, imagine that my size/a man’s size; and I have none left, therefore she took them; I rest my case.”

At this point, I thought, you poor fool, Evan, here it comes:

And Emma indignantly and righteously responded by putting her black-clothed foot down (she was prepared to leave for employment), and declared, “You’re going through my bedroom, and that’s the only thing you can up with?  I don’t have a key to your place, but yet I sneak over there in the middle of the night and break in every chance I get.  I don’t take the good stuff; I leave your money behind; and I make sure the Fireball remains for you and your friends; BUT No Evan all I want is your STUPID BLACK SOCKS…

“MOM!!??”

“Now, how the two of you can read each other’s minds is truly beyond me…BUT really Evan, and even if I wasn’t there buying the socks with Emma like she said, Evan did you even make a point.  Mind you, you haven’t even lived with us for a year, but yet your sister is going through your home or pilfering through your washer & dryer in the laundry room for, nothing else but socks.  PLEASE!?!  How silly does that sound?”

“They are my brand, my size, and my colour‼”

“Evan they were bought by me, your mom, from the men’s department at Walmart, because women’s socks simply do not fit her petite properly.  She needed black for work.  And yes, you like that brand, so I figured she would as well.  GO FIGURE.”

We may live in Florida, and most of the time we are shoeless, but when it comes to our feet… yes, Emma won the Battle of the Socks…and, apparently, they must be black.