So, I mix up some blueberry muffins but then we spend 20 minutes looking for the muffin pan and can’t find it. You’ve seen pics of our kitchen. If we can’t find it, the muffin pan’s not there. It left home. So Marty is going to run get a muffin pan and goes to get his boots.
Marty: Damn! I can’t get on my boots!
(A few seconds.)
Marty: Damn! I can’t get on my boots!
Me: Uhm. Those are my boots.
Marty: No, they’re mine.
Me: No, those are my boots.
Marty: No, they’re not! They’re mine.
Me: My boots.
Marty: You got a pair of Ariats too?
Me (putting on the boots): Look, they’re my boots.
Marty: Oh. I’m relieved.
Me: Uhm.
Marty: So you got Ariats too?
Obviously. Back in November. When you insisted I get a pair of cowboy boots in Texas like I’d always said I’d wanted to do.
The Ariats are a size 9 (a little too big for me, gotta wear double socks) but it’s not like I have Godzilla sized feet.
Really, regular me feet here. I stand my boots beside Marty’s boots to prove it. See! See!!!! Yours are bigger! Much bigger boots!
Plus, mine have a higher sheen, in case you need an extra clue.
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