And in a related issue....

Behold, the cause of my ouuwwwwchhhhh....

The classroom I use for my Shakespeare class is large and well-equipped, one of a local public library's much-appreciated offerings. You can -- and I did -- request a TV/DVD, a huge whiteboard, a podium, just about anything you want to help your class to run more smoothly. What I didn't think to request, however, was a floor made out of foam padding and marshmallows.

Every week, the library's maintenance staff sets up the tables in the formation I requested -- kind of a long, conference-style setting shaped like a capital "I". There are two tables at each end of the long body, one for me to spread all my books and papers out on, and the other for mothers who are auditing the class to sit at. Which I know isn't very grammatical, but shut up and let me get on with it.

If I'm sitting at the head of the table to talk with the students as I often do, they can't see my feet, you dig? I like to sit with them when we're discussing the DVD productions we're watching because they seem to open up more when I'm in the role of fellow amateur drama critic instead of Lecturing Educator Behind a Podium. It didn't seem like a big deal, then, to kick off my sandals beside my seat. And then when I got up to walk back to where the mothers, Katie and Dwan, were sitting, the kids still couldn't see my feet, so I kept my sandals off and walked barefoot. And stood barefoot while I was talking to them from the table at the back of the class, my nekkid tootsies well-hidden.

I did this because yesterday was my first sandal day, and I'd kind of forgotten that I'd promised myself I'd get some new sandals this summer since those old ones -- a beloved pair of Bass leather sandals which may date back to the time when the Hebrew children were wandering in the desert -- are just done. They're old. I think I got them when Aisling was two. But I never throw shoes out, sometimes because of sentimental attachment (I know....I know...) but mostly because of money. But after a while, you just have to give up.

It became apparent before I even left the house that it was harder walking while wearing the sandals than just going barefoot, but I thought the library staff might be slightly disapproving if I entered the library domain with my teachery tote bag and my professional mien and bare feet, so I persisted, mostly because I'd just painted my toenails and it seemed like a shame to cover them up.

Thus, I frolicked barefoot in the classroom and my students were none the wiser.

But you know what was wiser? My feet. My back. MY NECK. Yes, all those things were very upset at the lack of a cushion between my soles and the tastefully carpeted cement floor and three hours of walking around on it took their toll and last night I had the WORST night of sleep I've had for a long time, totally unable to shake the aching, even with about nine ibuprofen. Which is why this post seems kind of foggy and rambling.

And which I hope is completely unlike anything else I write. *gulp*

Oh, the many joys of middle age!