Wednesday - The Shoe
Oct. 12th, 2005 09:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreAs I drove into work this morning, I obsessed over a lost baby shoe.
Half of a $12 pair of baby shoes is not $6, it is $0. The playground at the daycare center is small, much too small for a shoe to get lost on. It has apparently ceased to exist.
If I do not buy another pair of those shoes, the lost shoe will never resurface. Somewhere in another universe, there is a place where baby shoes disappear to - always single, never in pairs.
In quantum physics, they observe particles that appear and disappear, seemingly at random. The thought is that rather than cease to exist momentarily, the particles are popping into a parallel universe and then popping back into our universe.
I believe that certain baby shoes are made entirely of these particles.
Quantum physics is mysterious. I know for certain that the only way to make the particles that compose my son's lost blue shoe with double velcro tabs jump back into this universe is to purchase another pair of baby shoes just like the single shoe that I have left. The moment I make that purchase and discard the receipt, the missing shoe will reappear on the toddler playground at Zion Lutheran Church, in plain sight.
This is the way things have always been.
Half of a $12 pair of baby shoes is not $6, it is $0. The playground at the daycare center is small, much too small for a shoe to get lost on. It has apparently ceased to exist.
If I do not buy another pair of those shoes, the lost shoe will never resurface. Somewhere in another universe, there is a place where baby shoes disappear to - always single, never in pairs.
In quantum physics, they observe particles that appear and disappear, seemingly at random. The thought is that rather than cease to exist momentarily, the particles are popping into a parallel universe and then popping back into our universe.
I believe that certain baby shoes are made entirely of these particles.
Quantum physics is mysterious. I know for certain that the only way to make the particles that compose my son's lost blue shoe with double velcro tabs jump back into this universe is to purchase another pair of baby shoes just like the single shoe that I have left. The moment I make that purchase and discard the receipt, the missing shoe will reappear on the toddler playground at Zion Lutheran Church, in plain sight.
This is the way things have always been.
