The weather here this week has been absolutely divine. So great that all I want to do is breath the outside air...and actually right now I have all the doors open (don't tell Mr. P because I guess bugs like to come inside, and he would prefer I just open windows) and am 'working' from the patio.
On Tuesday I just putzed around the house and went running and when I finally couldn't put it off anymore, went in to work to finalize my exam. I took my gym stuff because my circuits class is on Tuesday afternoon. I ended up not allowing myself enough time, so I ended up having to scramble and throw my gym clothes on and run to get to the class on time. I felt a little stone in my shoe and thought that once I got to an ab exercise I would take my shoe off and get it out.
It shifted, so ended up not bothering me so I didn't look for it until after the class. It wasn't a rock afterall.
It was a broken nail. No, not a metal nail like for hanging up pictures, or hammering wood. I looked at my toes, all intact. Looked at my fingers, in tact. I don't know where it came from or whose it was, but ACK. GROSS.
But, that isn't the worst thing I ever found in my shoe. Once, I had a 'rock' in my shoe and when I got to work and checked, and it was actually a
roach. A COCK.ROACH.
The only good thing? It was dead.
(That happened about 15 years ago when I was working graveyard shift at a diner and living at my dad's house in between Mr. P getting out of the Air Force and us starting at school. ahh the good old days.)