Yesterday, I ran some errands in Santa Fe. Wearing sandals that had black rubber foot beds resulted in the bottoms of my feet being…black. I decided to hop into the shower to clean them up, did my pedicure foot scrub, then soaked in the tub afterwards.
I’m “Kindled” up, reading a good story. ThatManILove is sleep on the bed, trying to catch up from late nights of solid customer meetings and entertainment.
I hear something over and above the movie on the television. I think it’s TMIL talking to me, so I say, “What? Did you say something?”
And then I hear, “Maintenance!”
And then, “NO!”
I’m all, “WHAT?
And then I hear TMIL talking…supposedly to the maintenance man. Who had, by the way, transgressed into our hotel room.
Without our permission. The bathroom door was open, but all he could possibly see is my feet. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
It seems someone’s tub was flooding the Old House restaurant downstairs. They were trying to Sherlock it out. Still not sure if it was ours.
But the manager came up, full of apologies, and comped us wine and cheese.
I would have been happy with a full-out mani/pedi; not to mention a new pair of sandals that don’t turn your feet black.
It’s never boring around here.