I’m an avid walker. In fact, I walk every day and hike once a week, weather permitting. For the most part I walk alone but every now and then I find a friend willing to keep up with me (apparently I walk too fast)
This past Friday was forecast to be lovely and spring like so my husband caught me by surprise when he suggested we do a walk together. (He walks regularly with his golf buddies but rarely walks with me because he prefers a slower pace) He suggested we walk the golf course – it’s a pretty setting, quiet….good idea….or so I thought.
As we were preparing to go he advised we’d be going in his car instead of mine, which we rarely do when we go out together. (He drives a honkin’ big ole Buick, the kind you see in southern states that are usually driven by 80 + men wearing Tilley hats and orthopedic sandals. It drives like a big clumsy animal and I have lovingly dubbed it ‘The Geezermobile”) I asked why and he replied, “My clubs are in it and I thought I’d hit a few balls as we walk and you can fetch them” Ahha,,,,ok,,,,,, no. (If you want someone to fetch balls get a cocker spaniel) Sensing I was not enamoured of his suggestion he pulled my car out and we headed off to his golf club for our walk. Once there we parked and started out on one of the cart paths. There were still patches of snow on the course but the strong sun was rapidly melting it. (Now that should’ve tipped me off)
Eventually he suggested we go off the path and walk on the grass because ‘it was sunnier on the greens’. I thought nothing of it. By the time we hit the middle of the fairway it was noticeably soggy and it wasn’t long before my sneakers were flooded. Great. These are new sneakers and my custom, prescription orthotics aren’t supposed to get wet – but it was too late. I suggest that perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea so he navigates us to a cart path again but not before I slip on the wet grass and land flat on my ass in several inches of water. (Are we having fun yet?)
We walk in silence (by my choice) staying to the paths where possible but occasionally we had to tromp through snow. Why not…..what’s a little snow in my drenched sneakers? At one point he advises we were half way (thank God, the end is in sight!) but I still manage to fall on slippery grass, not once, but twice more, and by now I’m soaked from the waist down (If he laughs I’ll have to kill him) and the last fall was in a patch of grass that was muddy. Nice. (How come he hasn’t slipped?)
By the time our car is in sight we’re walking a good 20 feet apart because I just want to get my soggy ass home and in to a hot shower. I put a grocery bag on the front seat to protect the upholstery then cover that with his jacket and sit on it, mud and all. (OK, ok, petty I know but at this point my pride was as bruised as my ass)
Now I get that it really wasn’t his fault, not all of it, but he should’ve known the grass would be soggy and perhaps advised me to wear boots instead of sneakers. Or maybe not suggested going off the paved cart path at all? And I’m not impressed that I am I the only one to fall here. (OK, my ego hurts more than my rear) At the end of the day it was not the relaxing walk I had envisioned…… …..had I not landed on my ass in mud three times maybe it would’ve been.
So,,,, note to self. Walk on your own – it’s safer (avoid wet grass) cleaner, and nobody is there to witness anything. And if I do walk with my husband again, I’ll have to remember my hip waders. Until then I’m stickin’ to the paved roads.