I grabbed these boots so fast off the thrift shore shelf you'd think I spotted Dior or something. I shoved a foot inside-it fit! Like Cinderella's glass slipper, and I danced off to the register to pay for my boots happy in the knowledge that eventually, even if it takes 50 years, everything shows up in the thrift store. Sure, they weren't pink, but as an adult I prefer brown anyway.
I waited through summer for rain, but it was autumn before a rain boot-worthy day arrived. I pulled on the right boot and then...another right boot. Oh. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away but I wasn't ready to hand it over! It wasn't that obvious that anyone would notice unless they were wearing the boots. The best I can figure, someone bought two pair and donated one set. I like to think there's someone in Omaha walking around with two left feet and some rainy day we'll meet and exchange boots, setting the whole exchange right. I didn't wait all these decades to just give up at the first pinched toe. No, I'm the determined sort of fool that will wear my boots until I trip and face plant in a puddle.
...and if you think those rain boots are going anywhere but on my feet you can forget it. Eventually, if I wait long enough, I'll find the other foot.