Big Foot
“It was an oversight!” He responds the sole of his shoe crushing the rug binding.
“An oversight? How can you say that?” She answers, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. “You know my concern. To you it’s silly, but will make a difference.” She monitors her voice and hangs the towel to dry.
“A difference, I’m walking here . . . in my house and now need to pay attention to every step I take? A march on Washington makes a difference . . . side-stepping a rug, not so much.”
“Don’t dismiss me. You heard the difference yesterday. Remember? Traffic patterns, wearing down carpet and it you simply walk on the wood floor we won’t have to replace the living room rug in five years.”
“No I don’t remember, I’ll be dead in five years, am I not more important than a rug?”
“Of course you’re more important than the carpet, it’s inexpensive. But it’s not only the rug. You don’t listen, disregard what I say, and ignore my feelings.”
He interrupts, “Okay, because I inadvertently walked on the carpet I now don’t care what you think or feel?”
“You could say that. Actions speak louder than words.” Her arms are folded across her chest.
“It was an oversight, I walk crooked and stepped on the carpet when, as you explained, easily could have stayed on the wood floor, call me careless.”
“Did you call me careless when I inadvertently didn’t park the car in the center of the driveway?”
“That is unfair. You know why that is important; the sprinkler system goes on and tarnishes the car’s hubcaps. It wasn’t an oversight that you forgot again and again.”
“There was no rust.”
“ There is no dirt.”
“Yet.”
He looks down at his large size twelve foot and smiles.
. . . . Seriously Just Saying
Seriously Just Saying 
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