I Want to Be Positive About Life

I work as a receptionist at a large doctor's surgery and it's a great job. A couple of years ago we relocated the whole set up to a new, purpose built facility, and this was lots of hard work, but ultimately very worthwhile because our old building was very old and on the small side. The new facility came with new opening hours so our team had a need to work until 20:00 throughout the week. This isn't as bad as it sounds because there's a few of us so I only have to do this once a week. My late shift was (and still is) a Wednesday. I want to tell the story of something ridiculous and frankly unbelievable that occurred to me on my first ever Wednesday late shift.
I'm ashamed to admit that back then I was a smoker (I have since successfully kicked the habit) so at about 19:45 on that first night, I popped out the back for a cigarette. This was acceptable and permitted, and actually, on this night, staff and patients were very thin on the ground, I felt like I was pretty much on my own, why not go for a smoke! There was a small veranda to stand on, overlooking an area that was due to be landscaped. I say due to be, because at the time it was a huge churned up sea of mud from all the building work. Anyway, I finished my cigarette and turned to re-enter the building. And I couldn't. The door had closed itself, and could only be reopened from the inside. I banged loudly on it, but as I said, there was hardly anyone about, and nobody heard me! The realisation came that I was going to have to walk around to the front of the building to get back in. Obviously this would ordinarily be a non-issue, but I was basically trapped on a little veranda by the aforementioned sea of mud....!
Being at work, I wasn't wearing suitable shoes for "off roading" but there wasn't an awful lot I could do about it, I couldn't really stay there all night! In fact, my shoes were tiny little slip-on numbers in the style of ballet slippers. Black, with a sparkly little motif on the front. I considered taking them off and just going for it in my socks, but just couldn't bring myself to do something so gross! As I stood there, contemplating lowering myself off the veranda and crossing the mud, I felt weirdly excited. I realise this is odd, but we're always told "not to get dirty" and I remembered being in trouble as a child for getting my clothes messy. Here I was, about to step into the mud in my nice work outfit because I had to. It felt quite rebellious! I might as well enjoy the moment!
I slowly lowered my left foot off the veranda. I felt my shoe come into contact with the soft mud and it didn't stop descending until I was ankle deep. I repeated the procedure with my right foot. The mud had come right up and over the sides of my little pumps and was doing a reasonable job of sliming my socks and the bottoms of my trousers. It felt very cold and slimy! I reckon I had about fifty feet to cover across the muddy area to get to the safety of a concrete path. I started to walk. The first thing I noticed was how careful and deliberate I had to be to prevent my shoes coming off because of the mud's suction. I thought if I was careful I'd just get muddy shoes and socks, nothing more. I had a shock after ten or so careful, squelchy paces. The mud suddenly became a good deal more unpredictable and quickly swallowed me up to my knees! I can still remember the loud burping noise it made as I plunged in! It was so thick and deep that I genuinely struggled to move my feet and realised that the only way I'd get out would be if I left my shoes behind. They were stuck fast! I reluctantly slid my feet out of the stricken ballet pumps and immediately felt bad about the effect this was going to have on the amazing black and red Christmas socks I was wearing! But there was nothing I could do about it. I squelched through the mud, finding it much, much easier in just my socks, right up until the point if went even deeper and I sank in to thigh depth!
I was starting to worry about actually getting stuck now, imagining the embarrassment of needing the fire brigade to pull me out! At least if I could extract myself I could just quietly go home and get cleaned up and nobody would need to know about my mud bath! So I wriggled my legs and feet around and managed to withdraw them, then I decided to go onto all fours and crawl across the remainder of the mud, to spread the weight (I am only 8.5 stone too!) And I made it out. But the cost was high! I had no shoes, and the majority of my outfit was covered in slimy golden brown slop! I scraped off what I could to hurriedly clean myself up and put a massive plastic bag on my car seat to drive home. I found driving in slimy socks quite strange too!
I smile to myself to this day about this most amazing of experiences. I think I'd have died of embarrassment if I'd been "caught" in the mud, I am eternally grateful that I got away with this one and nobody's any the wiser! But at risk of sounding mad, I'm glad it happened because it was quite fun in a daft kind of way! It's a lovely grassed area now, with trees and flowers. I often think about my poor shoes buried under there!
Oh, and amazingly, my Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer socks lived to fight another day!