The Perils

Damn, I’m tired. The good news is that I’m at home on my (fixed) high-speed internet with my (brand-spanking-new, higher voltage) laptop power adapter. But there’s something wrong with my feet.

I knew it was a bad idea to wear heels today, because I was going to work at least twelve hours and spend most of them on my feet and/or running around from place to place. But the pouring-ass rain encouraged me to wear a certain suit, and the length of these suit pants required heels instead of flat shoes. I tried to go easy a bit by wearing the stacked penny-loafer-things instead of my pointy J.Crew heels or my 3-inch round-toe heels, but still. Heels.

Side note – how come it didn’t rain for like three months straight and now we’ve had monsoon-like rains for the last two days when we had a number of outdoor events planned?

Anyway. So I wore the stacked shoes. And instead of working for 12 hours straight, I worked for 15 hours straight. And my feet HURT. HURT HURT HURTY HURT. Like, I can barely stand up hurt. But the weirdest thing of all is that the four smaller toes on each foot are almost completely numb. That can’t be good, can it?

Also, I have a fancy name tag that I’m supposed to wear for events. It’s silly because these name tags are custom-made and cost like $20 each and all, but they’re very small and the more elderly people I work with have trouble reading them, so then I’m having a bunch of old guys put their faces three inches away from my right* boob to read my name and title. So, this name tag has a heavy-duty magnet with it, so you’re supposed to put the magnet on the inside of your shirt or suit jacket or whatever and then the tag sticks to the outside.

*Fun fact: if you ever wear a name tag for something, you should wear it on your right side, because most of the people you meet will shake hands with you right-handed (as you do) and then their eyes will naturally be drawn to the right side of your chest, where they’ll easily read your name (and title if applicable).

So today I was wearing the name tag all day long, and at one point this afternoon I had to drive across town at the last minute to pick up some stuff for an event. It was pouring rain and I was wearing the dumb heels and trying to juggle an umbrella, a purse, a messenger bag, and my keys, and I got to my car and looked down and saw that the name tag was all askew. So I went to straighten it out and it came off my suit jacket into my hand. Which meant I’d lost the backing magnet somewhere. So I was freaking out, trying to figure out where the backing magnet had fallen, and thinking about all the places I’d been so far, when all of a sudden I dropped my car keys.

And they stuck to my boob.

The magnet, it seems, had gotten dislodged from the inside of the suit jacket into my shirt somehow, and wedged itself against my boob. So when I dropped my keys, they stuck to the magnet, which was on my boob, leaving me with a set of car/house/office keys stuck to my boob in the middle of the parking lot. That was fun.

And I have to be back for a breakfast event in less than eight hours, so I’m going to hobble on my hurty feet with my numb toes and go to bed.