Monday, January 2, 2012

and whiskers on kittens

I had high hopes for my doctor's appointment today. I imagined Dr. N taking one look at me, exclaiming "GADZOOKS! Get this woman to the hospital! There's a baby on the way!" Instead he said, "See you next week." Yargh. Never before in my life have I looked forward to pain. But now every twinge, every shooting sensation and every back ache ignites the hope that maybe labor is on the way. I rejoiced when I threw up, knowing, just knowing, that contractions would start soon. Nope. It was just a bad sandwich.

I should not talk to strangers, and not for the safety reasons Officer Friendly covered in elementary school. I should not talk to strangers because I am psychologically/physically incapable of carrying a conversation like a normal, well-adjusted human being. While in line at the airport, the girl behind me asked where I got my shoes. I should have told her where. Instead I told her where, why, my feelings on the particular brand of shoes, my reasoning for buying said brand, when some online sales occur, and how to best keep them clean. Then, having nothing left to say, I turned around to face forward again. Then, realizing just how strange this behavior was, I decided to hide in the bathroom for seven minutes, wait for that section of the line to pass, then rejoin the line in the back. Better to lose my place in line than try and think of any possible way to convince the shoe-admiring stranger that I am not afflicted with sharetoomuchthenpretendweneverstartedaconversationitis.

1 comment:

  1. I kinda love this. Mostly because I would probably do the same thing... but also because I think people who do things like that are far more interesting than boring people, people who might've said where they got the shoes and moved on. So kudos to you!


Don't be shy.