Mother knows best.. AGAIN!

My mother will always advise me on everything in life. It normally goes in one ear and out the other because I just don’t want to hear it. Just because I am not listening does not mean I do not absorb it because trust me I do.

Last night I had a mother knows best moment. It was about six o clock when I was getting ready to leave for work. It was a floor set night so I could wear whatever I wanted and the mall would be closed so no one would even see me. I would be getting dirty anyways so I threw on some sweats and off I went. Right before I left my mother tells me to put on some shoes that cover my feet so that if I drop something I don’t hurt my feet. Did I listen? Of course not! I put on my favorite sandals and off I went. I get to work and am assigned the redo the long sleeve shirt section in a new layout. This requires climbing up on the ladder and moving hooks around and then pulling down the ten pound shelves and replacing them. I was on a roll and doing quite well with my job. Organizing, pulling shelves down, putting them back up, then re-hanging things. I finish my job with ease after about an hour. I was surprised I had not hurt myself yet with climbing up the ladder full of shirts in hand and then the whole move this ten pound shelve thing. I talk to my boss and she has me then go help a coworker with moving the jean wall to the other side of the store (might I add was a stupid idea to switch the sides anyways, but oh well). As I am transferring the jeans and shelving again back and forth I haven’t hurt myself. I am placing the lowest level of shelving on the wall when it happens! The shelve falls out of my hand and guess where? Right smack onto my foot! You bet I cried out in pain and end up limping the rest of the night. I get home and it hurts to put bed covers on it and my mother asks what’s wrong. I then have to admit that she was right by answering the question. “Well I dropped a shelve on my toes at work and now they hurt really badly.” I look down waiting for the laughter to begin. Then I hear the ultimate question “What shoes were you wearing Karlie?” I don’t even have to respond to the question she knows I was wearing the wrong shoes. So this blog goes out to mom, for always being right (unfortunately).