Shoes in the Silverware

I got into trouble last night, bad trouble. So bad that I can only now face up to what I did. I put my shoes in the silverware drawer. Thank goodness that my mother is dead; this is a transgression that she would have found difficult to forgive. What on earth possessed me?

An RV is short on space and while there are clever ways to cram a lot of stuff in, three people, even when packing light, create a mess quickly. Also, anyone who knows me knows that when I decide it's bed time, I'm done. I was tired from two days of driving and when Roberta and Elisabeth decided to watch TV, I decided to hit the hay (we were in Nebraska, it was almost literal.) In my hurry to get myself tucked in, when I picked up my shoes I searched around quickly for a place to stash them, opened a drawer and there was an empty spot just the size of my shoes. So without thinking (much) I put them in, got into my jammies and hopped into bed.

I was just nodding off when suddenly Roberta screamed 'THIS is UNACCEPTABLE!" I sat bolt upright, wondering what terrible thing had happened, and there she was, holding my shoes, staring at me with a look that would have opened an oyster at 60 paces (credit: PG Wodehouse). I was terrified as you don't want to cross Roberta on this kind of shit, and I knew that I was guilty. Whether from her indignation or my terror, Elisabeth started laughing, and then we all started laughing and then the RV started shaking and we started laughing harder and harder until we were all gasping for breath. Somehow we all settled down until I began singing 'shoes in the silverware, fly, shoes, fly' and it all began again. I am now on probation and guess who my P.O. is?