I stepped in gum this morning. In the street. I wasn’t wearing shoes. I wasn’t barefoot. I was in my socks.
I walk Oliver barefoot a lot. Usually he’s sitting on the end of the bed giving me the “my eyeballs are floating here” look and I take him to the “mailbox” our little code for “pee on my car tires and crap in the yard.”
I normally put on my socks, say “mailbox” and usually on the way from the bedroom to the front door trip over a pair of my shoes.
Oliver’s morning routine. Sniff tire. Sniff another tire. Hike. Trot to our mailbox, sniff, hike. Mosey to neighbor’s mailbox, sniff, hike. I have the newspaper out of the bag by now and am reading. Mosey to bushes, sniff, hike. Canter to corner stop sign. REALLY sniff, hike. I have now read all the section fronts and am ready to go back to the house. “Oliver. Go In. In. In. Go In. Oliver! Go! In!” Oliver trots to grassy area and circles, circles, circles, trots to different place, circles, circles, stops and gives me crap. And we go in.
Oliver finishes, I turn to saunter back to the house and one foot is not moving like it should. After eliminating the possibility that I am having a stroke, I look down to see the long gooey strand of gum.
I laughed out loud.
Never underestimate the power of a woman. Catch Her In The Wry ranted about gum chewers, I responded bragging on how I never throw my gum where people walk.
Result: I have gummy socks (which I still have on.)
I hope she enjoyed her visit to southern Kentucky.