Odd Places

For approximately three hours, I had been wearing my Franco Sarto flats with blue socks. In those three hours:

I walked from my house to my car.

I drove to Portland.

I walked three blocks downtown to the PGE offices.

I meandered around the third floor looking for something to do.

I sat at my desk pretending to be working while in actuality I'm reading blogs, checking my email and trying in vain to purchase tickets to the Dead Sea Scroll exhibit.

I tested my blood sugar only to discover I was 445 mg/dl (I think I tried to bolus for breakfast before I actually reconnected after taking a shower... oops).

I drank an entire can of soda in 3 minutes.

I got up and walked through the cubicle to the bathroom.

That is the point when I felt something funny in my shoe. A pebble from the street? Some strange sticky thing from my bedroom floor now clinging to the bottom of my sock?

I take off the shoe. There's nothing inside.

I examine the bottom of my foot. A blue sock is all I see.

I put the shoe back on. I can still feel it. I take the shoe back off again.

I feel the bottom of my foot.

There's some hard. Rectangular. Small.

In my horror, I stick my hand into my stock and retrieve a tiny blood glucose test strip that has been inside my sock all morning.

In The Sock.

And I thought the Broken Printer Incident was bad.