We have an issue with shoes around here.
Here is my side of the story:
I have a lot of shoes. What can I say? I'm a woman. I have a lot of shoes and I'm always running late. Do you honestly think I have time to run up and down a flight of stairs, in and out of a bedroom closet just to put on my shoes? No. No, I do not have that time. I have time to slip on my shoes on my way out the door. That is what my time is for. And that is why the occasional pair or two live near the garage door. In my defense, I always leave them neatly arranged behind the green chair, where no one can notice them. No one, that is, except Kyle. (He sees everything)
Kyle's side of the story:
My wife has a lot of shoes. Shoes belong in the closet.
See?!? He is so inflexible! Implacable! Unrelenting! My shoes need to live and move and experience life first hand by waiting near the door for my every beckon call! A closet is no place them. A closet is for random toy footballs that husbands leave in the most stupid of places. Like on the coffee table. Now, that is what closets are for. But definitely not for shoes. At least not all my shoes.