Why I usually drive barefoot. (Not because I'm a hippie.) (I'm not a hippie.)

So check it, I'm driving home from work today, right, and it's been such a crap day. Retail, if you don't know already, is the uninhibited debasement of human interaction. Do you remember the last conversation you had with a retail worker? Well, yeah, we don't either. The only difference is that we have repetitive and inane conversations for hours at a time. And we're paid (but not well.) Anyway, I'm driving home and the music is really loud in my car and it's not because I think the rattling bass will percuss in me an easy and natural coolness, but because the sentences that are scrolling Wall-Street-marquee-like through my brain (Hihowareyoufinethanks. Isthatallfortoday? Yourtotalisninefiftythree. Doyouwantyourreceiptinthebag?) will only be drummed out by equally repetitive and inane Top 40 lyrics (gottagetthatboomboompowgottagetthatboomboompowgottagetthat.)

Kind of like, if I want to get rid of one evil, I have to replace it with another. Which could potentially be a very political statement. But it's not.

Anyway.

I'm driving home and there's this fucking cacophony in my head, right, and my work shoes pinch so I switched to the flip-flops I carry in my purse (along with the novel I'm reading at the time. Those two things are the only things I carry a purse for) and just as I'm reaching the light, my flip-flop gets tangled in my toes. (And you SO know how that happens, don't front.) Which is awful because the tangled foot is the one I need to brake, and I can't use it to brake because IT'S TANGLED IN MY SHOE. And there's a good five seconds of my life in which I'm so sure I'm gonna speed through this light and get T-boned by an Optimus-Prime-esque semi and die, but I just mashed my foot down, tangled as it is, thinking a broken foot is better than a dead Anila. But instead my mess of toes and foot and shoe just clamp down on the brake and I just hold it there until the light turns green and I can fix myself.