Gaslighting myself. Yep.

See these ridiculous pink trainers? I bought them about six weeks ago at a craft show, oddly enough. It was on a Saturday. I wore them all day the following Tuesday, and that included the evening at WI. Which was, incidentally, our branch's first birthday. We did belly dancing and celebrated with cake and jelly and ice cream. Details schmetails, huh. There's more. 

As is my slovenly manner, when I got home, I kicked off the trainers and reclined for the rest of the evening. Three weeks later, I was preparing for an evening out with my Coven. It was a post gym workout evening, so I had a shower and then made the mistake of answering my phone whilst I dressed. The caller was a chap who was responding to an enquiry I had made, so perfectly legitimate. I put him on loudspeaker and carried on dressing. He was, well, a  slow speaker and quite determined to explain in detail the procedure of the oven cleaning I was trying to book him for. I didn't need the detail, I just wanted to book him. But believe it or not, I'm polite and let him carry on. I've donned the undies, decided on the pink jeans and a matching pink and red top and started to look for the pink trainers. 

Greg The Oven finally got his diary out and suggested a couple of dates whilst I unloaded every shoe from the shoe shelf section of my wardrobe onto the floor,  Naturally this involves effort, grovelling and I'm pretty sure some heavy breathing. Poor Greg!  No sign of the pink trainers. I settled on Greg The Oven's first available date, got rid of him. Dried my hair, put some tennis shoes on and went out. Didn't give it a second thought until I got home and had to tidy up the shoes, blaming Greg The Oven for distracting me. Wondered vaguely where the trainers were, brushed my teeth and went to bed. 

I have since checked every room, under beds. Every cupboard, even in the utility room. No sign of these damn pink trainers. Asked my Mr Dunnit. Actually, I even asked him if he'd hidden them because he felt they were inappropriate, embarrassing, didn't suit me. Any or all. He laughed and said he wasn't gaslighting me. I just could not find them and when Miss Dunnit and the Squeeze came home, I accused them of absentee gaslighting and made them look everywhere I already had. Fresh eyes and all that. Nada. Joking aside, I was a bit worried about myself. And the shoes.

So, I woke up yesterday and decide that the day had arrived to change my wardrobe from summer to something resembling autumn and wet weather clothes. Literally...I didn't even get dressed, just made a start. I picked every thing off the shelves in their piles and started to separate 'layer' type tops from genuine summer tops, shorts from leggings, put the jumpers back onto shelves and remove flimsy stuff generally. It went well and apart from needing breakfast rather badly, I felt smug. In the room that I do ironing, I knew there was a pile to done, but largely it was summer stuff, so I fetched it. After all, if they're going to be squashed into vacuum bags, no point ironing them is there. Two t shirts down, I found a hand towel. I probably stuck it in the pile to feel good that there was some non-iron stuff to skim over! Moved the towel and hey presto, there were the trainers.

I must have put them on top of the pile of clothes to take them upstairs, and then like a fool, put another pile of stuff on top of that! It's all I can think  of for them being there. So today I'm wearing pink trainers because I can. And the oven at my late Mother in Law's is sparkling. And no one needs to come up with a plan to gaslight me. Turns out I can do it myself.