Stink, Stinkier, Stunk
Today I was outside at the end of the day for DPA (Daily Physical Activity) with my students. I was inside again before I realized that my shoe wasn’t hugging the tile floor in the flat way that it normally does. I looked down and to my dismay discovered that I had tread upon a whopping pile of shit….apparently with both feet.
At first I thought it would not be an ordeal, I calmly went back outside and scraped my feet on the side of the building (I know, not too lady-like of me), but that only scraped off the safe oxidized outer layer, leaving a much stinkier and more urgent situation in its place. Upstairs, the smell became unbearable, so I went into the small storage room in which I keep science supplies and my coat and purse, and I took my shoes off and left them in there, shutting the door firmly behind me.
I was fine to walk around my classroom in my shoeless feet, helping some students who had stayed behind, until I realized that I couldn’t get home in sock feet. This was the one night when Mark had a staff meeting and I’d said I could just walk home, so he needn’t bother coming by the school to get me. Okay. That’s fine. I’d just have to tackle the shoe disgrace in a hands-on fashion.
So I opened the storage room door quickly, reached around the corner and grabbed my scarf off the hook where it was hanging. I wrapped it tightly around my nose and mouth and then grabbed those shoes and ran to a sink at the back of my room. The smell was unbearable. I faintly remember thinking that it would be a real shame to asphyxiate on my own vomit in such a telling state – prying dog shit off an orange running shoe using a piece of wooden doweling at the back of my science classroom.
I used hot water because I thought hot water is more powerful. However, it also made the dog shit particles more volatile and hence more stinky. So I eventually decided I had made the problem irreversible. Time to cut my losses. I found a garbage bag and dumped the shoes in it and tied it tightly closed. Then I found another bag (I dumped whomever’s gym clothes those were on a desk – serves them right for not bringing them home) and put the first bag in that.
So I’m carrying a double-bagged sack of shitty shoes and I’ve got a fuscia scarf wrapped like a noose around my neck, and I’m wandering the halls looking for someone to give me: a) shoes, so I can walk home or b) a ride home.
Needless to say, I am now safe and sound in my cute little basement apartment. I debated tossing the shoes out. However, I opted for washing them. I can’t be bothered to fish the insoles out of them like you’re supposed to, but at this point, as long as I don’t permanently coat the inside of the washing machine with crap, the worse that can happen is the shoes will be irreversibly deformed and I’ll throw them out anyway.
This is the kind of drama that I live each and every day.