Some people just step in shit a lot. Some people are just plagued with it. I am one of those people. In many ways, I consider myself to be a fortunate person, however, that being said, if there's poop nearby, my foot will find it. It started so early in my life that I'm sure there are instances of it which I was too young to remember. I am told that this is the result of not watching where I walk, but I swear that i do, and I just never see them. One of my earliest memories in life is stepping in shit. Well, actually, it was more like stepping on a shit and slide. My parents were at odds. The house was feeling tense. I was 4. This was the year that my parents divorced, but a couple of months before it actually happened. My Mema pulled up in the yard in her car. She lived on the same 20 acres of land, but on the other side. I was overjoyed to see her after experiencing a lot of arguing in the house that day, so I ran out the door and jumped onto the grass in a fierce burst of speed. About 10 bounds in, my bare feet landed in something so greasy that they flew right out from under me and I came to a screeching halt with grass and dirt all in the backs of my shorts. I remember feeling confused for a split second before I saw that the greasy substance was brown, and thus deduced that it was, in fact, poo. My body went limp in the throes of personal defeat. It was the beginning of a lot of stepping in shit. I am not the only person that steps in it though. In fact, a high school friend of mine had one of the most theatrical shit-stepping experiences I have ever heard of. Abelo and Peterford, we will call them, were the best of friends. They hung out all the time, often at Peterford's house since it was less populated than Abelo's. Peterford and his mom had two large dogs. These lovely canines dropped grenades in the back yard usually, which also happened to be Abelo and Peterford's favorite smoking spot. One evening, these gentlemen went outside for a smoke as usual, but came back in smelling the foul stench of a doo grenade. Abelo suggested to Peterford that he should check his shoes. So he did. One at first, then the other. He was in the clear. Peterford suggested that Abelo do the same. The first looked good. But the second was a terrible scene. It must have been like when you step on an aluminum can to crush it for recycling, but it wraps around your shoe and holds on instead of just being crushed. The grenade was encrusted in sand and the entire pile had been wrapped around the shoe and carried inside in its entirety. The shoes spent the night outside.
Six months ago, when our chihuahua was potty training, he still had accidents sometimes. It seemed like he only liked to place the accidental turds on my side of the bed, right where my feel landed on the floor upon rising. One night, during a long week of repeatedly stepping in the dookies and tracking them about the house, I awoke to go to the bathroom. I was sleepy, and so I made quick work of the journey. When I awoke in the morning, i found a sad scene in my bed. I had stepped on top of the turd on my first step out of the bed. It had cushioned my journey to the bathroom, leaving small chocolate colored smudges all the way there and back. And I then went back to bed, with no clue that there was a whole turd on my foot. When I woke up and realized the extent to which my home had been compromised, I was in total disbelief. It was miraculous. Stepping in shit always is. I think that after all these years of it, I have finally decided to see it as a blessing rather than a curse. At least I have a lot to laugh about.
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