Wednesday, 6 April 2011

Why do my shoes want to eat my feet?

So today I decided it would be a good idea to walk to the grocery store. It's about a 15-20 minute walk from my house, no uphill areas, and if I take the back streets I can admire all the pretty little dilapitated houses along the way. I'm a sucker for all the old architecture around this area, the once cookie-cutter 50's style homes that have matured into each having their own personality and life from years of being lived in and not necessarily well cared for. It's a partially cloudy day, but it's warm and it was definately a pleasant walk to the mall where the grocery store is. I wanted to listen to my mp3 player, however it died about two blocks from my house, so although I didn't get the pleasure of listening to music the sounds of seagulls and pigeons and spring birds was pleasant enough.

Once I got to the mall I bought myself a frappacino. Because I haven't splurged on a too-expensive coffee beverage in awhile, it seemed like a good idea and I had found a ten dollar bill in my purse. I got myself into the grocery store, and took my time getting all the things I'd need for spaghetti dinner tonight, and went to the till. Then I realised I had forgotten my wallet, and only had a few dollars left on me in change. Fuuuuck! The woman helping me was really kind, said she does this sort of thing all the time, suspended my groceries and held them at customer service for me so I could run home, get my wallet, and run back.

Halfway home again and I realised my new amazing shoes (they are super bright red and white canvas sneakers, cheap knock-off converse that remind me of David Tennant as Dr. Who's foot wear) that I have been wearing everywhere are making the backs of my heels burn. Burn like burst blisters. These shoes have not once in the 2 weeks I've been wearing them hurt my feet! The ankle socks were a bad choice. I was aggrivated, because I knew when I got home I'd have to change my shoes, and the only other comfortable walking shoes I have right now are pretty much ratched to hell white slip on sneakers. Not to mention I had co-ordinated my whole outfit to the red canvas ones, and it bothered me immensily that the shoes I would be changing into were white, and my pants are off white.

As soon as I got home I ran inside, grabbed my wallet, checked my make-up, and changed my shoes and headed back out. I could have just said screw the groceries, but I'm stubborn and I had already told the lady I'd be back to get them so I felt that I had to go get them now on principle.

Half way back to the store I heard a loud-ish crack, and something began poking at the ball of my foot. I figured the sole of the shoe must have broken, and it was probably just a piece of plastic stabbing me. But I was in a hurry to get to the grocery store, so I didn't check. When I finally got back to the store  my knee was killing me from having speed walked home and back again, and then I had to carry 3 bags of groceries home, including some cans. So I bought an Elle magazine and some crazy straws to make up for the stupidity of the situation. And I stopped at Subway to get some lunch, and took the back streets to get home again. Every three steps my foot was being pierced, but still I didn't bother checking because it wasn't terribly painful and I was now on a very uncomfortable mission of getting home and eating lunch, and stopping even for a minute would make this mission take longer.

 When I got home I inspected my foot, and noticed there was a big bloody hole in my sock. Well now, I didn't expect that. There was also a nice stain on the inside of my shoe, and my foot is a little scabby. Isn't it funny how when you know you are bleeding the slight discomfort of being poked in the foot actually becomes more painful? I inspected the shoe, it hadn't broken as I'd thought but rather I stepped on a very large construction staple. The crack was the sound of it breaking through the rubber sole, and the reason it didn't hurt with every step was it only just barely poked through. If I had just checked when it happened I wouldn't have a hole poked into my foot, and the walk probably would have been more pleasant.

All in all, an adventure that should have taken maybe a little over an hour wound up taking me just over 2. And I spent more money than I had meant to, on lunch, coffee, and a magazine. The crazy straws were totally worth the $1.50 I spent on them, although now I'm questioning the wisdom in buying a $5.00 magazine filled with clothes I can't afford... I think I'll justify it by cutting it up in a few days when I'm done reading it to make an inspiration poster for sewing some clothes!


Well, I decided I should get started on my spaghetti sauce and opened my freezer only to see... I have no ground beef! Well, there goes the bolognese sauce idea. Guess we will be having chicken with our spaghetti instead. It's seriously been one of those days.

Updated Update:

Yes, in fact it is a comedy of errors. As I was slicing up the onion the knife slipped in a desperate attempt to detatch the tips from the rest of my fingers. I learned that fingernails are for more than pretty polish! No bleeding, thankfully, but my immediate reaction was to put the offended finger in my mouth. Which brought the onion acids too close to my eyes and I'm wearing mascara. The resulting oniony acidyness caused me to immediately tear up, which caused the mascara and eyeliner I'm wearing to run into my already sensative eyes. I flipped the burner off to go deal with my poor eyeballs, which feel like they have a nice burning plastic film over them. I still can't see normally, and my face is all red and puffy as a result of this fiasco. I headed back into the kitchen only to find that I had turned the burner to MAX HEAT instead of off, and the onions and garlic I had already put in the pot had burned. So I had to cut more, which made my eyes tear up again. Thus I chopped the rest of the veges for the the prima vera sauce haphazardly, and am having much trouble with the vision.

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