Quo Vado?

I’m shuffling. Not picking up my feet, collecting static, shuffling around the office today. I so seriously hate my shoes that I’m wearing that it’s not funny. Mom brought me three pairs home from her visit to the Birkenstock outlet in Germany. The first was the blue pair of sandals I wear as much as possible and have had resoled. The second was a pair of brown shoes w/ velcro - I gave those away. The third pair - the one I’m wearing today is a pair of clogs.

Of course, while writing this I realize that I hadn’t tightened to buckle over the arch of the foot. Maybe that’ll make them better. I hope so, wearing shoes I don’t like all day could be a bit much.

Fall has finally hit the metro area; in true Atlanta fashion we went from highs in the sixties to freezing in twenty-four hours. As I sit here now in the icebox, I remember why I dubbed it that a year ago. It’s bloody cold back here. At the moment I’m wearing a way too-tight polo shirt, a light teal v-neck sweater and my office sweater. I feel like I’ve got a stay puff marshmallow man costume - from the waist up, anyway. My legs are covered in a light weight pair of black slacks - that supposedly make me look taller. All I have to say about the whole thing is I’m warm on the top and chilled below. What a way to spend the day.

As I kid I’d occasionally watch Mr. Rogers, and I never understood the opening or closing routine. OK, so singing is one thing - I routinely make up songs. But seriously changing from a coat to a sweater and switching your shoes? What was this guy thinking.?

I’m thirty-two years old and now understand the whole jacket to sweater thing Mr. Rogers did when he entered the house. Now, I still don’t get why you wouldn’t keep the house warm enough to not need a sweater. On the other hand, I did the same thing twice today as I came into work in the morning and returned with lunch. I took off my field coat, grabbed the sweater off the hook and hung the coat there before putting on the sweater. As I headed out tonight I realized I’d been having this Mr. Rogers moment for the last several days. Odd how life works in a delay like that.

I’ll admit, I still don’t get the shoe thing - but I hate shoes. I hate socks. Most of the time I’d rather just have cold feet.

• “You’re a booger head!” should be a bad phrase.
• They’re taking a tree down out back this afternoon. I’m going to get so much work done.
• I’m becoming one of those crazy emotionally needy women. I don’t like it.
• I need to get a pillow case for my work pillow, it’s got a yucky feeling to my skin.
• I’ve yet to figure out where this crazy country I live in get’s it’s sense of moral imperative with respect to the rest of the world.
• Doctors are no fun. Today I get a tetanus and a flu shot.

If you’re faced with getting into an elevator pit, it really is the four feet deep I designed it to be. At thirty-two jumping in is a bad idea. A bad, stupid idea. Don’t do it people!

Griders are a Northern thing. Don’t try one in the south and think it’s going to satisfy that craving.

Driving while making up stories in your head - not a good idea. Even if you’re narrowly avoiding damage to MPC.

Daylight savings time sucks.

I need a laundry basket near the water closet.

Your roommate looks at you funny when the 3rd of November is the only day of the year you wear shorts in public. That one may only apply if you live in the Northern Hemisphere.

There are fewer television commercials if you watch television on the net.

Don’t jump in the elevator pit. It’s a bad idea. Seriously.