Loren: Who is going home with you tonight?

After enduring being awake for fifty two hours and having to flex what tiny biceps I have carrying box after box of books/magazines/shoes/magazines/clothes/clothes/clothes, I collapsed into bed for a much needed rest. An hour into it, my phone rang. Usually I would have snored right through it, but something told me to pick it up. 

It was Tilly, admonishing me that in case of fire, to abandon my shoes and save myself.

Huh, I thought. Is this a premonition kind of thing?

Can't be, I decided, keeping my eyelids firmly wedges closed. Tilly doesn't have full control over her five senses, much less make use of a sixth.

So even through the thick fog of exhaustion, I still managed to protest.

"No! My shoes come with me!"

No, Loren, saving your life is more important.

"Noooo!" I groaned pitifully.

I swear that I would have started throwing a fit if Tilly had insisted on convincing me to not save my shoes in a disaster. I was feeling pernickety enough.

Luckily, she laughed at my how hopeless my situation was, and shooed me off to sleep.

I am sorry, Tilly, I know you are looking out for my best interests, but I am looking out for the best interests of my shoes. And that to me, means them being by my side, come hell or bankruptcy.