There’s nothing like going for a nice walk on the beach at sunset. I just wish the sand wasn’t littered with so many razor sharp shells. Sometimes I feel like someone purposely came along and sprinkled them in my path. This person is really brilliant too, because somehow they managed to arrange the shells so that they would jab me just when I was in the midst of saying something particularly insightful.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about my purpose in life and these days I really think it’s …. awww. I hate shells,” I say doing a strange hopping chicken walk.
“You were talking about your purpose in life,” my husbands reminds me.
“Ouch … awwww …. jeez … These shells are ruining me.”
When we walk on the beach my husband likes to walk in the water. I’m not a big fan of getting my feet wet, so I walk right at the water’s edge. This seems to be the area where all of the sharpest shells gather. I keep telling myself that they’re toughening me up. It’s kind of like walking on hot coals except much more painful.
Every once in a while, a stray wave will wander up on the sand a little farther than the others getting the edge of my foot wet. I always respond by wailing and running away from it.
Other than the shells, water, and getting sand stuck between your toes, walking on the beach at sunset is wonderful. Maybe I should buy some water shoes.
Note: Aiming Low published an article I wrote about my wonderful packing and unpacking skill. Check it out here.