This morning, I didn't feel like putting on scrubs. It's hot out (well, it's supposed to be, anyway) and I'm not teaching a lab class, so I threw on a skirt and slipped my feet into some mules (wait...are they even called that anymore? Crap, I think now they're slides. Kinda like how thongs used to be footwear and now they're buttwear.).
Now, I've got enough estrogen to realize that the first pair of mules I put one were bad, bad, bad with my skirt, so I went digging in the closet until I found a less offensive pair of shoes to slip on.
Then I left for work, intending to feed Her Highness along the way. It had obviously rained where she is, but not at our house, so I had to deal with mud. Not a problem, I've pretty much mapped out where I can step in her mud bog without getting all gross and muddy. My plan was going well, until Her Highness decided that she would rather eat the grass outside of her pen than the hay I had my arms loaded up with.
Long story short, I ended up stepping in the mud. I finish up what I'm doing with Estes, knock off as much mud as I could and drive into work, thinking nothing about it.
Really. Mud on my shoes, completely out of my brain. I knocked off the mud and it was a done deal in my mind.
Luckily, one of my co-workers saw me and told me to go wash off my shoes before I embarrassed myself walking all over campus with dried mud all over my shoes.
Yep, I'm a failure as a girl. I mean, really, who (besides me) doesn't think to wash the mud and horseshit and hay off of her shoes?