I am a lazy person, I will freely admit this. I will never get the urge to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, though I'd love to take pictures of it. I will never run a marathon - because I see no point in duplicating the act of a Greek messenger who ran that far to say that the war was won, only to DIE. I will never be a fitness fanatic, I will avoid that fact of life as long as possible.
My laziness, coupled with my lack of thinking led to this picture.
I had to turn in an expense report for my trip to Houston, because if I had to stay in stabbetyville, USA, I was going to get paid for it. The person whom I had to turn this report in to works approximately 15 minutes from my office - in North Fort Polk. I drove there only to find numerous mud slushers and rock picker uppers (I think that's what they're called) - basically a lot of construction vehicles - in the process of repaving the parking lot, which is in front of the building. There was no point of entry around the mud slush, at least none that I knew of. So, I parked my car (illegally) and ran across the mud slush to turn in my report.
My thinking behind this was that the sooner I turned in the report, the sooner I would get paid. My thought process also included the fact that I was absolutely NOT interested in driving ALL the way back to North Fort later in the week (you know, ten minutes out of my way) to turn the report in. Logical, yes?
Well, not really. There were at least half a dozen women outside on a smoke break who watched me tap dance through the potholes of sludge and the surprise quicksand traps. I felt as if I were in a game of mario, I half expected Bowser to burst out of the building and challenge me to jump on his head until he died.
However, instead of Bowser, I had about six incredulous, professional women watching a 24 year old idiot who was trying to make tromping through the mud look graceful. When I reached them, they looked at my muddied Converse and exclaimed that I had ruined my shoes, though I'm sure none of them saw this as a loss. I fumbled around embarrassed and handed over my report - which they promised to give to the person who was actually out for the day.
Needless to say, I was mortified, and I almost flew across the mud on the way back to my car, I wouldn't be surprised if I sprayed their dress pants with guck in the process. Once in the safety of my car, I gunned it to 88, hoping to turn back time so I could decide to be a normal human being who would have seen the mud and repaving and decided to WAIT to hand in the report rather than look like a fool. However, in instances such as this, I'm afraid I will always go and look like an idiot only to regret it later.
I did manage to completely ruin my shoes, incidentally. However, I have a new pair of Vans sneakers on their way to my house as we speak. I wonder when I will grow out of my adolescence. Probably not any time soon.
P.S. When my husband saw my shoes outside he asked, "So, did you step in dog poop?"
"How the eff could I step in THAT much dog poop?" I responded.