Sock Puppet

That's me.

A certain individual left his rolled up, discarded sock in the middle of the living room floor. I was called inside from a lightning photography session (fail) to answer to the absence of the Italian seasoning (which I compile from assorted ingredients).

I was hurrying because...well, because I am a mom. People call. I answer. Even though they are people who could darned well look for the spices themselves while I indulge in a little post-workday play. And other people darned well know better than to leave their laundry in the living room. I stepped down hard on the blasted sock....I was irritated at being dragged away from my deeply fulfilling relationship with the Canon.

And so, it's back to ouch and the air cast and maybe a day on crutches.

Again. I am NOT a happy camper, and somebody else will be feeding the peacocks and baby chickies and putting Nick up in his run. Probably someone with traveling socks. The ground is so rough up there I just got so I could do those chores a couple days ago.