I did not step in it. I watched myself revert to olfactory mode when I thought I recognized my shoeprint there. There was no offensive scent. Still, I checked the imprint against the sole of my right shoe, then my left. Might have been a match but the nose decided the question: definitely not mine.

Walking requires stepping, and sometimes leads to stepping into something; that something most often imagined as dog poop. I don’t mean to suggest that I haven’t stepping in plenty in my time. I’ve experienced that moment of humiliation followed by stinky acceptance. Yup, that was definitely me. If it smells like dog business everywhere you go, check your own shoes first. Or last. I’m always the last to know.

I probably needed to be taken down a notch. Stepping in something provides the perfect leveler. We are each capable of surprising ourselves, and I think the most powerful awareness generator must be simply stepping in something.

I checked. It wasn’t me. Musta been someone else.

©2013 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: Working, Writing, Living