The Tara Syndrome

A friend, today, mused to another friend: Your husband has the Tara syndrome. Without meaning to, I was quick to blurt out, "What the f*** is the Tara syndrome?"

My friend continues to enlighten me about the syndrome named after me: "It's when you climb your car, stupidly take off your shoes, get home and wonder before descending your car, where the hell is your pink shoe and why you have just one on. So you go up to your apartment half-barefoot, sleep on it, cry because there's nowhere in the world, you think, that you'll be able to buy another pair of pink flats ever again. You get over it after four days and when you return to your building's parking lot, ergo the crime scene, and you find your shoe in the spot where you left it, looking like you just stepped out of it and wonder, what kind of sick, twisted fate will bring you back your prized shoe? You start to shush yourself and thank the heavens for it."

I burst into a huge guffaw. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who took off shoes when about to drive. And I am not the only one whose shoes wait for them to come back to me by some mad twist of fate.

That, folks, is the Tara Syndrome. Do you have any syndromes named after you?