I heard a crack, cried, then did a combo laugh-cry.
The kids were horrified – including the quiet hardly-know-he-cares teenager. I had to throw in the laughing so they knew I was ok.
I realized pretty quickly the crack most likely was the step and not me. I just broke my pride and my back side. My bum is a lovely color of purple and blue and if the hubby casually smacks it one more time I may just have to casually …. ( I can think of a few equally torturous things to do)
This was a great excuse to spend an entire labor day on the couch in jammies watching movies. Unfortunately, we picked some really depressing ones (The Beaver, & Everything Must Go – don’t bother paying for those just catch them if they are ever on) but the one that I really liked was a documentary called The Elephant in the Living Room. This was amazing. However it was based in my state and now I am seriously worried about all of the exotic pet owners out there. Seriously, in Ohio alone, 15,000 lions are living amongst us. But watch the movie, it was really well done and probably hasn’t gotten the credit it deserves.
Then I spent an hour watching teeny tiny ants in my kitchen – not a lot of them. It is the strangest thing. They seem to come in from the window, just a few here and there and walk back out. We have had an exterminator out 3x since we moved in because I am a pest hater. I am still obsessing about the snake skin and the occasional spider that the kids will see, then tell me about but not quite know how to explain to me where to find it. I love that.
And then, this morning, I was looking for a pair of shoes.
Let me explain shoes and me.
I love shoes. I have a lot of shoes. I take care of my shoes. When I was little I threw temper tantrums when my shoes got any kind of scuff or dirt on them.
I keep all of my shoes in their original packaging and boxes. I moved my shoes carefully, the boxes are labeled and in order by style and color and I looked in every single shoe box because I had to label them of course.
I have good feet. Shoes are the only guaranteed thing that will fit me and look good. Some people like jeans, jewelry or purses. I like shoes.
So I am in the cupboard where my shoes are kept, (in the basement - the largest cupboard I could find) and I am looking for the box that holds the particular shoes I wanted to wear today. I opened a box that I thought contained these particular shoes and just stared open-mouthed at (well, frankly I had NO clue what I was staring at) it appeared to be shoes. Once I settled, I realized the shoes I was looking at were completely covered in green fuzzy MOLD.
COVERED. Completley. My Shoes.
The box they were in was fine. The cupboard is fine. But now, three boxes later, more mold on my shoes.
I had called the hubby down to see, to console me in my nightmare, but that really didn’t go over well. It probably isn’t good timing at 6:30am to freak out about the discovery of moldy shoes, then tell him to not mess the order the boxes are in (because I did spend 3 hours putting them in that order) while he is trying to figure out what could have happened. Needless to say we argued. Loudly. At 6:30am with the windows open...
I had to leave for work. In tears. With three boxes of moldy shoes to drop off in the garbage on the way out the door.
And I have to call him to tell him to buy a dehumidifier for the basement and try to be nice while doing so.
Then thanks to my Mom who did actually console and understand my shoe plight (she was there for the temper tantrums when I was little and GETS it) found a home remedy of mixing alcohol and water to clean the remaining shoes.
Then I will move them somewhere else – I have no idea where and I didn’t just spend eight hours at work worrying about it (it was more like nine hours including drive time)
But it’s just shoes. I know this. I know there are a lot worse things in the world than some moldy shoes, a bruised butt, mysterious snake skin, invisible spiders, poop in the pool, and little teeny, tiny ants.
Like worrying about the 15,000 exotic pets living in Ohio that could get loose.
I mean it’s not unheard of that a Boa Constrictor would ever get loose right around the corner from me or anything….
It’s just shoes.
PS – One de-humidifier, a new home for my shoes in an upstairs closet, another call to the exterminator, and a good shoulder to cry on and I feel normal. Now if only I can find the body that goes with the snake skin and I’ll be fine… (and some new shoes, of course)