Wet feet

It always seems to be the case that going back to work effectively kills my blogging. It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's just that the majority of it is work related and I don't blog about work. Not that I could say a lot that would get me fired.

Like I could tell you exactly how many packets of sugar each person in my department takes or does not take in their coffee and how they stir or neglect to stir it in during our communal coffee breaks.

Or I could tell you the exact colour and pattern of the carpet, or that I prefer the toilet on the right to the toilet on the left because the one on the left has a stain in the bottom of the bowl that reminds me of dried blood. Not that it really affects the function and utility of the toilet at all.

I have a million and a half little observations like that.

I went in search of new shoes today and came up empty handed. Mom said that there were shoes on sale at Sears that were remarkably similar to the ones I've been wearing for forever, but the only sizes that I found were gargantuan. I guess that means that I have to go another day or more of wet feet.