I’m Wearing My Husband’s Shoes

There are perks to having big feet. Injuring your toe and needing a comfy and roomy pair of shoes to slip on afterward and being able to borrow your husband’s shoes is one of them.

Hi, my name is Ashley, and I hurt myself grocery shopping.

Because apparently, I needed to once again prove that at times, I can achieve the impossible and make an idiot of myself.

A can of pineapples did me in.

Size 10, like a boss.

Size 10, like a boss.

And here I thought that I was going to have a quiet and relatively breezy and quick trip through the grocery store. I had not a single cereal box wielding, squealing child in tow. I had it made, I was unstoppable. Literally, I did not have to stop the cart ten times to appease my son who wanted to see this or that. I didn’t have to stop to put a box of crackers that my youngest just threw OUT of the cart back INTO the cart. I was buying that turkey sausage and greek yogurt like a boss.

And what did I go and do? Injure myself.

The store clerks were super nice though – the only time someone came and checked on me was to see if I had gotten blood on the floor in the aisle. It was so nice that it actually made me want to wobble back over there and try to make a mess since I had failed at that the first time. I guess it could have been worse and I could have pulled an entire shelf of canned pineapple on top of myself, but it’s only Monday. I’ll be sure to put that on Instagram if that happens, OK?

In the meantime, my husband and I arranged to have our home appraisal this week to finally get the ball moving with our home repairs. And I agreed that in less than two days time would be sufficient for this because I hadn’t had coffee yet. People can say the strangest things when they haven’t had any coffee yet. Apparently, I’m on a roll this week.

So if you’re looking for me, you’ll find me freaking out over the seemingly millions of puzzle pieces all over my floor, the hand prints on my wall and the box of Christmas decorations still sitting in my hallway after 9 months. And when you find me, I’ll give you a hug and ask why you aren’t helping me clean for my appraisal. Wish us luck and air-kisses.


Happy Monday, folks.




4 thoughts on “I’m Wearing My Husband’s Shoes

  1. Jessica says:

    I PROMISE you (and I used to work at a real estate appraisal office, remember) that the appraisers aren’t judging your clutter and sticky handprints! They’ve seen worse! They just want to know that the house has heat and the roof isn’t caving in! Hang in there! *hugs*


    • ashleylecompte says:

      That is encouraging to hear! The only reason we are slightly nervous about it is that the pictures have to go through the place where Rob works @_@ So we were trying to not have anything terrible laying around. Hoping to get lots done today.

      Thanks for the encouragement!


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