This morning started like a Monday.
The girls were making fairly decent time (it’s funny how much more efficient they are at getting ready in the mornings for art camp compared to school). We were walking out to the van and I noticed the dog had done his business right in the path of where we were walking. It is Dolittle’s job to clean up his doo (as it is her dog), but as this was obviously… um… fresh… and we were making good time, I dutifully elected to clean it up myself. I took the yard shovel, scooped the poop, and went back inside to wash my hands. Done.
So I loaded the girls in the van and took the long way to camp. You see the long way allows me to access the perfect parking spot. The spot is perfect because the car now faces the right direction to get to work, and it is located far enough back from the lights that I can get in the turn lane, but close enough to the studio that we don’t have to walk far. And it is only a couple of blocks out of my way to go that route.
I pull into the above noted perfect spot, turn off the ignition, open my door, and immediately step into some other dog’s poo. That, my friends, is just wrong.
So now my flip-flop is gooey on the bottom. And I shuffle on the road. And I shuffle on the grass. And I shuffle up the walkway. And I look around frantically for a puddle. Then there it is. The art studio had obviously rinsed something and dumped the water outside (as no other puddles existed), and I happily stepped in the puddle. And I shuffled in the puddle. With my flip-flop now as clean as I can get them without using something other than just my feet, I bring the kids inside and exit, dragging my feet all the way back to van.
I’m late for a meeting. I wonder if I got enough off or if my feet will give off any kind of aroma in the room of strangers. No time left to go back and change shoes.
As I’m stopped at a lights I notice an old man on the corner. He is shuffling. I wonder if he stepped in doo too.
Then I notice the headphones. And the hand movement. The old guy is dancing. Right there on the street corner. He was dancing, bless his heart. Badly. But dancing.
What are the chances anyone who saw me earlier would think the same thing???