The other day I thought I got a rock in my shoe.
It wouldn’t be blogworthy, except it happened in a public restroom. (In fact it happened in the restroom of the gas station near Gainesville where I got the free beer.) I couldn’t quite figure out how I got a rock in my tennis shoe when I was walking on linoleum, but whatever.
I tried to shake the “rock” out of my shoe and nothing happened.
Later I looked in the shoe and I didn’t see anything. I decided that it must just be the tag coming loose.
Later it was bugging me again and so I checked again. I saw a little silver dot. Was a staple or a nail coming out of my shoe?
In my shoe. Poking my foot.
Someone is probably sad they lost this. I’m sad for it stabbed me in the foot and I’m happy it was easy to fix, but I am a little bit sad I don’t need a new pair of shoes.*
* My Mom has this great pair of Privos that I have been wearing and she won’t let me take them back home with me.