So, uh, took the dogs for a walk today.
Yes, it had rained a lot the day before, but still.
I mean, what on earth could go wrong?
I mean, I knew one part of the path would be flooded–but I’ve got that mastered, right? I walk on the side of the path for part of the flooding, and then I move into the residential area so I can swing around the second part of the path and then, Bob’s-Your-Uncle, I can take one of the residential paths back to the loop. Yeah, sure, it’s an extra quarter mile onto my walk–I can use the exercise, right?
Of course, when I get down the path and realize that it’s twenty feet of standing water, my can-do attitude sort of dissolves.
And as much fun adding a quarter of a mile to my walk has been, in order to go back and avoid all puddles altogether, I’d be adding another mile to my walk, and, well, I’ve got things to do!
So I suck it up, roll my pants up to my knees, take my shoes off, and walk across the pond, ignoring the little air bubbles coming up from the seams in the concrete, stepping over the piles of oak leaves and God knows what’s in them, and apologizing profusely to Geoffie who is actually swimming during the last bit because the water was that deep, and she is that short.
Oh–and trying not to completely bite it by slipping on the mud which is way slippery without the traction of my shoes.
I make it.
I walk to my car, let the dogs jump in and get on a towel, and then I sit in the heat until my feet dry and I can put my shoes back on.
And the whole time, I’m pretending that there wasn’t a chance… not even a teeniest hint of a chance… that I stepped on any worm carcasses during the entire trip.
Don’t tell me, folks.
I just don’t want to know.
