Poo Shoes Are Better Than No Shoes, I Guess

Well, last night a sad realization hit me. Here's the story:

Saturday night we went to a surprise birthday party for a friend who turned 50. While there, Austin stepped in dog poo while playing in the back yard. So, we brought home his tennis shoes in a plastic grocery sack (to be cleaned later). When we got home, Sheldon put the sack of shoes on the front porch (to be cleaned later at a more decent hour).

Sunday the shoes also sat there while we were busy all day, then Monday, same story. Then sometime Tuesday, I noticed they were gone, and I was so glad someone brought them (to the garage? to the back yard?) to be cleaned. I briefly wondered where they were sitting to dry, but didn't think much past that.

Well, last night when Sheldon and Austin were discussing what happened to the shoes, I realized that the two people who would have touched them did not know what happened to them. All of a sudden, the light dawned. I realized that the donation center didn't make a mistake when they left a receipt for the items I forgot to leave out for them. Instead of circling "sorry we missed you", it said "thank you for your donation". Oh, how sad. The "donation" they got was dog poo shoes. We all had a really good laugh over that. Except Austin who didn't realize how funny it was until much later after I promised him 2 new pairs of shoes instead of one.