A Thousand Times No

In my rapid packing for the trip, I failed to toss in a proper pair of long pants suitable for camping in the cool temperatures at higher elevation. To spare me the challenge of pants-free hiking, my sister suggested we swing past “The Bins,” a huge Goodwill center near the edge of town where used clothing is sold by the pound.

After we arrived, we managed to pick out some sweatpants and an extra fleece jacket for me to wear on the trail, along with some tonier finds like a Marks & Spencer sheath dress for her and some Ralph Lauren khakis and a cashmere sweater for me. Just as we were about to leave, my sister suggested that we swing by the shoe bins to check for some dress shoes that she might wear when going out dancing.

Picking through the vast assortment of men’s, women’s, and children’s shoes, I suddenly did a double-take. I saw a lone sandal sitting in the middle of the bin that looked extremely familiar. I picked it up, and stared at it for a moment.

“How odd,” I thought. “It looks just like one of my shoes.” For a moment, I wondered whether I had accidentally placed my own shoes in the bin while trying on a different pair. But when I looked down at my feet, I saw a pair of sandals that matched the orphan sandal in my hand.

By “match,” I mean exact match — same brand, same style, same color, same size. Considering that I was wearing a specialty sandal that was discontinued six years ago, it was an incredible stroke of luck. The only problem was that I held a near-new left sandal in my hand, but its mate was nowhere in sight.

My sister and I diligently rummaged through every single shoe bin in the place, without success. I looked a second time, and then a third. Finally, I spotted Mr. Right, hidden amid the random pumps and sneakers.  Jackpot!

And with that, my vacation took another giant step in the right direction.