Lazy

If you haven't noticed, I've been a bit of a slacker the last few weeks. Life just seems to get more chaotic as the end of the semester approaches. I used to have time to be creative and relax, but lately all I have time to do is calculus homework (and I'm barely keeping up with that). This is an account of a field trip I took in my Biology class in October.

I was required to meander into Montgomery Woods Tuesday to "observe nature" as part of my Bio class. An acorn nearly murdered me as I climbed up the gentle incline of the one hill in the park. It went a little something like this:

1. I get out of the car and am immediately sorry as the temperature is around negative 63 and I have (foolishly) only worn a hoodie and neglected to bring my Nike's (Coach sneakers are cool for hiking, right?)
2. Learned some terribly interesting things about redwoods (well, I would have, if I hadn't been focusing on sending blood to my toes to keep from developing frostbite.)
   
3. Coach sneakers are not cool for hiking. Especially not canvas sneakers that absorb all the free moisture from the forest the day after a rain storm (we got eight whole inches) and which is currently enshrouded in fog, which apparently is like a rain storm in the redwoods. Lovely.
   
4. Walking in moist air uphill makes me breath as loud as an angry walrus. Everyone asks me if I am okay. I would have answered them, but my tertiary bronchioles were busy trying not to explode.
   
5. I need to look at the ground when I walk because, get this, oak trees like to grow around redwoods. Oak trees drop slippery leaves. And acorns. Acorns are round; round things roll. Round things roll better when they are on a moist incline. I am clumsy at the best of times.
6. I am heaving along, my socks now completely saturated and making a delightful "squish" sound with every step I take, when I am distracted by one of my darling classmates talking. I take my eyes off the ground for a moment to respond so I don't look like I dislike eye contact. As I step forward, I feel my right foot slipping.
   
7. I am in some sort of half-split position, trying to sort out why this is happening. Several people are laughing at me. Awesome.
   
8. I fall over to escape going into a deeper split and realize I am on a hill, so I roll about ten feet down the it before being stopped by a large rock in the road. More people are laughing.
   
9. Properly humiliated, I pop to feet and squish my way back up the hill, my face aglow with the redness of retardedness.
   

What did I learn from this experience? Chiefly, Coach shoes are not meant for hiking. Secondly, Mother Nature is a crazy bitch who wants to kill me with acorns.