Genius moment

There are two kinds of geniuses: people with an IQ over 140, and people who are only called “genius” when it’s said with a healthy dose of sarcasm and preceded by something along the lines of “Good going.” I’m not going to say where I fall on the first category, but I will tell you that I feel like I spend far too much of my time in the second category. But, hey, those less-than-intelligent moments often make for funny stories.

I had one of those “genius” moments fairly recently. I had to have minor surgery on my toe not too long ago. Leaving the podiatrist’s office was fabulous. Thanks to lidocaine, I couldn’t feel my toe at all. (Thankfully, it was the left foot. Driving would have been really entertaining if it had been the other foot.) Seriously, it’s like it wasn’t there. You could have had a parade of horses trot across my foot and I wouldn’t have felt a thing. It was like having a mostly numb volleyball at the end of my foot: I was walking like a penguin with a peg leg.

When I got home, I took my shoes off before the lidocaine wore off. I walked (fine, limped) around the house barefoot for the rest of the night. Life was good.

In the morning, not so much. I knew that I was going to have to take my girls to school. It was cold outside. There was snow on the ground. Flip-flops were NOT going to cut it.

So, I proceeded to put on shoes and socks with the care usually reserved for a bomb technician working on a live explosive. (I would also like to mention that I was doing this in a fairly dark room. I’m the first one up, so I just use the ambient light that sneaks around the edges of the curtains.) I found my most promising pair of socks, the really stretchy pair, and bunched it up. Stretching it out, I VERY gently eased it onto the toes. Once I had about half of my foot covered up, I didn’t think I needed to move so slowly. I pulled the rest of the sock up. So far, so good.

I moved on to the tennis shoe. I got my oldest pair of shoes, the ones that have been worn so often that they’re actually too loose. I almost took the laces completely out, but I decided it would be okay if I just loosened them up all the way. Once they were as loose as they could go without coming out, I pulled the tongue waaaaaay back. Putting my foot into that shoe felt like it took five minutes since I was moving so slowly. Very gently, pull the tongue back up. Still moving slowly and carefully, I partially tightened the laces and tied them together.

I felt like I had just climbed Mount Everest. I was so proud of myself! Sock and shoe on, no injury to my poor toe. Right in the middle of congratulating myself, I realized something very important:

I had completely forgotten to put my pants on.

So, I had to do the whole shoe process in reverse, get the pants on, and then do the shoe thing again. Not my best morning.

Nice job, genius.

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