Yesterday I kicked my own ass. All in the span of about an hour. It involved bashing my shin into a low lying metal grate that I did not see, and sweating through my blouse (which I wore, not knowing that I would be a nervous wreck all day* and need to be wearing Under Armour).
But the highlight of my self-inflicted ass whooping involved *fire ants. And lots of them. I was waiting outside of a property I was going to show for work when I heard a lady call to me and ask me if I was a broker. I approached her car and told her I was not, but I worked for the broker who represented that property. We got to talking, she was there to take some measurements of the same space I was supposed to show, blah blah blah.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt little pains all over my feet and ankles. I just started saying, "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow." I had never been bit by a fire ant before so I didn't know what in the world was happening. Then I look below me to find a massive pile of fire ants, storming all over the ground, my feet, my ankles, my shoes.
Naturally I reacted like an insane person, flung my shoes across the parking lot (not on purpose, just as a side effect of my shock and dancing around like a nut job), and started swatting the crap out of my feet and ankles while saying over and over, "OW. OW. OW."
All of this to which the woman I was talking to replied from the safety of her car, 'Oh yeah, I thought that might be an ant hill." Thanks. Thanks for the heads up.
Luckily I turned out not to be allergic, but I did have to show the property for the next hour with no shoes on, because fire ants were still impressively coming out of the insoles of my shoes for the next hour or so.
I would love to have seen this incident from a storefront nearby. One person sitting in her car nonchalantly. The other person flouncing around outside like a maniac, karate chopping the air and her own legs.
Add this to the list of reasons I'll never be President of the United States - Cannot even stand in a parking lot without actin' a fool.
But the highlight of my self-inflicted ass whooping involved *fire ants. And lots of them. I was waiting outside of a property I was going to show for work when I heard a lady call to me and ask me if I was a broker. I approached her car and told her I was not, but I worked for the broker who represented that property. We got to talking, she was there to take some measurements of the same space I was supposed to show, blah blah blah.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt little pains all over my feet and ankles. I just started saying, "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow." I had never been bit by a fire ant before so I didn't know what in the world was happening. Then I look below me to find a massive pile of fire ants, storming all over the ground, my feet, my ankles, my shoes.
All of this to which the woman I was talking to replied from the safety of her car, 'Oh yeah, I thought that might be an ant hill." Thanks. Thanks for the heads up.
Luckily I turned out not to be allergic, but I did have to show the property for the next hour with no shoes on, because fire ants were still impressively coming out of the insoles of my shoes for the next hour or so.
I would love to have seen this incident from a storefront nearby. One person sitting in her car nonchalantly. The other person flouncing around outside like a maniac, karate chopping the air and her own legs.
Add this to the list of reasons I'll never be President of the United States - Cannot even stand in a parking lot without actin' a fool.
No comments:
Post a Comment