A Real-Life High Heels Mystery

No, Gemma isn't writing today's post. But maybe I'll need to call in her heroine Maddie Springer for some help.

First a little backstory.

Six months ago this coming Monday I went to work in the morning and didn't come home until Thursday. You see, when I left for my OB appointment that afternoon, I thought it was a routine non-stress test where I'd lie down in a lounge chair for an hour with a monitor strapped to my belly. I'd just read and then go back to work.

But Baby Boy had other plans, and the doctor informed me she was sending me "upstairs." Yeah, to Labor & Delivery. Which shouldn't really have been a problem because I'd already made it to 38 weeks (his sister was much more impatiuent and made her debut at 34 weeks), but nevertheless, I wasn't ready.

I'd left everything unfinished at work. And left everything untouched in my office. I completely forgot that I had a few pairs of really cute heels under my desk that I kicked off one day when my swollen feet just couldn't take it anymore. And it wasn't like I'd be needing them for maternity leave. My mommy uniform pretty much consisted jeans and a t-shirt (or sweatshirt...or pj's) and sneakers (or flip flops or barefoot) for months there.

I forgot all about them. And even had forgotten about them when I returned to work earlier this month. It wasn't until I was switching offices the other day and packing that I discovered them again. Ooh, pretty!

So I moved them to the new office and planned out the outfits I'd wear this week to match both pairs. Yes!

I was talking to some people on my new hall, and they told me that apparently there'd been some theft in that wing and we were encouraged to lock up anything of value, so I knew I shouldn't just leave my purse out. No biggie.

The next day I came in, wearing a fabulous navy and cream wrap dress that would look spectacular with those hot cream patent leather open-toe slings I found. I slipped my feet under the desk to put on the gorgeous shoes.

Nothing.

No cream shoes. No awesome red peep-toe pumps. No black strappy sandals.

Where the hell did my shoes go? I immediately thought back to my new neighbors warning me about theft on the hall. Did somebody steal my shoes? But that didn't even make sense. I mean, they're really nice shoes and all, but ew. Who wants someone's used shoes?

But I'm beginning to think there are some freaks on this new hall. You see, now that I'm at work, I'm pumping during the day. And pumping SUCKS, so I know exactly how much milk is in that bottle when I stick it in the fridge.

And one day I put 8 ounces in the fridge, but when I went to retrieve it a couple of hours later, there was only 6 ounces.

So yeah.

Open message to the coworker who drank that really sweet coffee creamer...joke's on you, buddy. And if you took my shoes, give them back please.