A Funny Thing Happened …


I tend to have a problem with getting things in my sandals. Whilst walking along, I have to stop a million times to dump a rock or twig from my shoe. I’m sure it drives my husband nuts.

The other day I was walking the dog with my husband, when I felt something sticky in my shoe. I didn’t think anything of it because there were a lot of berries from a nearby bush scattered on the sidewalk around us. “I have something in my shoe,” I said as I stopped to kick off my sandal.

Much to my horror, I discovered that what was in my sandal was no berry … no berry indeed. It was a piece of poop. I have no idea where it came from, but it looked like poop and upon closer inspection it smelled like poop too. How could this have happened? I didn’t see any poop anywhere else. I always watch where I’m going. It was as if a little turd gremlin was walking behind me slinging poop at my feet.

We were halfway through the walk at this point. That means continuing the walk or turning back would take the same amount of time. As my husband cleaned out the inside of my sandal with leaves while I tried to wipe my foot on some grass at the road side.

“I wish I had some Cottonelle wipes and hand sanitizer in my bag,” I said. Unfortunately, I had neither. All of the hand sanitizer and wipes in the world probably wouldn’t have helped. What I needed was a blowtorch so I could purify my foot and shoe with fire. What I needed was a unicorn to gallop up to me and lick my foot and shoe clean with it’s cleansing saliva. What I needed was a time machine so I could go back in time and somehow prevent this from ever happening in the first place. There is just something about touching poop that makes you feel like you’ll never be clean again.

We walked a block over to Central Avenue to look for a place where I could rinse my shoe. I ended up rinsing it at a tap on the side of a title company building and using a piece of trash to wipe my shoe out. I continued the walk with a poopy sandal, a poopy foot, and as result of my poor rinsing skills, a poopy hand. Next time I’ll have some Cottonelle Wet Wipes in my bag just in case. They’ll have to hold me over until I’m finished building the time machine I plan to drag behind my in a wagon everywhere I go.