I needed some hazmat socks NaBloPoMo 14

I was talking to somebody the other day and the topic of gross kitchen floors came up because, you know, I am a scintillating conversationalist.

Obviously, I had to relate the whole incident when I went to visit my brother in college. This was years ago now because we are old. 

I parked the car and gingerly teetered up the rickety wooden outdoor stairs leading to his apartment. Every step could have easily been my last. These things were held together with rusty nails and way too much duct tape for my comfort level when three stories above solid earth.

I opened the screen door to his place, probably with a handkerchief, and stepped onto the linoleum floor in the kitchen. That first step went ok, but the second one did not. Because my sandal stuck to the floor and suddenly I only had on half a shoe on one foot.

I had the balance of goddamn ballerina in that moment let me tell you because my life probably depended on it.