As some of you probably know all too well, I have an obsession with picking things up off the ground. Maybe it started when, as a kid, I quickly learned that the sun and I are enemies and that to shield my eyes from it's fierceness was vital to my survival, thus kick-starting my fascination with the ground instead of the sky. It's probably genetic, though, as there is definite family tendency towards this behavior on my mom's side. My grandpa was notorious for finding treasures tucked here and there on the sidewalk. In college one of my favorite tank tops was one that I found run over in the back-alley outside my apartment. And I've worn many a fabulous baseball cap gleaned from the ditches of the beautiful Mid-West.
I have plans to someday (when I'm old and delightfully senile) open a Found Museum and display all my findings in some road-side shack and charge a buck or two to passing road-trippers who see my billboard on the side of the highway and just can't bring themselves to miss a rare opportunity like that.
The largest display in my Found Museum would be dedicated to all those single shoes I see littering the world. Who loses a shoe? Seriously! Why just one? It's such a mystery to me how that even happens. I see them everywhere.
So you can imagine how it made my morbid little heart sing when I learned that in Canada in recent months, shoes have been found washed up on the shoreline complete with severed foot inside!
If only I were to be so lucky as to find a severed foot/shoe. It would be the crown-jewel of my crazy collection. Maybe someday...
[Thanks to wash, dry, fold for the head's up!]