Why is it always that? Why do I not think of "Go to the bathroom" before I am bundled up with boots newly tromped through the mud? And those items in the distant bedroom that were to go to the shed, muddy boots cannot come and fetch them.
Things I get to do today take me out into dirt, the rained-on, wet, wet earth. Boots are perfect for my feet, but their tread is a sucker for mud. If they've been outside, they are never clean enough to flat-foot on a hard floor, nor to tip-toe over carpet. Nope. Can't be done.
I rush into the house, only the tippest of my toes touching the vinyl. Two plastic grocery bags slip over the offending boots. A quick overhand at the ankle, and the bathroom is in sight. Grab the items for the shed, sprint to the back door and off with the bags. Not bad for the after afterthought.
