Well, it is my opinion that a seriously wiseass angel must have heard me, and decided to poke at me in order to make me happier when I have nothing to write about.
Here in Germany there seems to be a serious slug problem. Yes, slugs. They are everywhere; I have even seen them climbing up walls. It's seriously icky. Oh, sure it's sometimes fun to pour salt on them and pretend they are the Wicked Witch of the West as the shrivel up silently crying about how it's a cruel cruel world. But for the most part they are just icky. When coming home late at night I am always worried I am going to step on one and squish it under my shoe. The visual isn't pretty and is enough to have me skirting every leaf, twig and possible slug that stands/lays between me and the door.
"Interesting, but where is the relavence?" You ask? I'll explain. About ten minutes ago the girls decided they wanted to go visit their friends'. So I rolled the stroller out to the end of the walkway that connects us to the street, and stood waiting as Carola helped her younger sister get her bike out of the underground garage. I handed the stroller off to Carola, explained in no uncertain words that they were to stay together and that Paula was responsible for making sure the bike got back safely. I saw the girls off and turned around to walk back to the house, when I noticed my sock was sticking to the bottom of my foot.
Oh No! You say. Oh yeah.
The bottom of my sock is a rainbow of all the colors to be found on the inside of a slug, and I just happened to stop in front of where the "incident" had occurred. 
I, stepped on a slug with my socks on!!! EWWWWWW!!!!
