squish, squish SQUEAK!

Ah, rainy days. I love rainy days. I love nothing more than to either go to bed with the rain tap, tapping on my windows or to wake up to a steady drizzle. (Only trouble is that I want to stay in bed all day!) I even have a fantastic noise machine with a rainstorm setting that lulls me to sleep.

Then there are the downsides to rain. I hate having to travel from car to building and feel all chilly and rained on and such. Traffic moves slower, and accidents are a bigger threat on slick roads. Plans get rained out, and there's always that one person who gets taken by surprise by the rain and rushes out to their car because they left their windows down. (i have done this on several occasions; I just thank God I don't have a car with a sunroof anymore...don't even GET me started!) There is the 6 inch or so section of your jeans that feels the need to soak up as much excess water as possible.

I remember being a little kid and getting off the school bus, excited to stomp in the puddles on my way up the driveway. Only problem was that L.A. Gears, though stylishly and fashionably made, had those little holes so that my eight-year-old feet could breathe. While this was helpful on hot summer days when I needed a little localized air circulation, it wasn't so conducive to puddle-jumping. The water quickly and gleefully found its way into those little holes and straight to my sock-clad feet.

Out of all these, though, there is one thing I hate the most.

I'm jogging into the school building, trying my best to dodge puddles, stay dry and hold on to all my personal belongings. As I reach the door, I do my best to wipe my feet on the mat, provided there is one. I walk through the double-doors and down the hall to my class. And then there it is.

SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.

Squeaky Shoes McGee. That's who I am. It's even worse when you come in late, or if you are walking down a hall in which several classroom doors are open.

SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.

After squeaking down the hall, I squeak into my classroom, over to my chair.

I've tried picking up my feet, which only makes me look like a show pony, high-stepping down the hall. I've also tried angling my feet differently as they hit the ground, but then the resulting sound is more like a SQUELCH.

SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.

So what will I do? Short of wearing different shoes and carpeting the school hallways wall-to-wall....I guess I'll just live with it.

Until it becomes SQUEAK, SQUEAK, CRASH! Arms and legs flailing, books and things flying, cheeks reddening and pride diminishing, all ending with me in a weeping heap in the middle of the floor.

In case I haven't mentioned it before, someone falling on their ass is always funny. Sad, but hilariously true.