Today I'm meeting Kev and his little brother (not blood, like from the Big Brothers Big Sisters organization) at Blizzard Beach and then heading to Melbourne afterward. Because of all of this, I had to pack my stuff to spend the night. I got all my stuff together and I thought to myself "I'll just run my stuff down to the car and then put on my sunscreen and then head out." No big deal, right?
Perhaps it wouldn't be a big deal if I hadn't been prancing around all morning in just my bathing suit. Thankfully, it's modest. In fact, I had a pretty tough time getting into it, thanks to the built-in corset made of spandex and elastic.
Right now, I'm pretty glad that nothing is moving anywhere in this suit because I took my chances with not putting anything on over my bathing suit to run my stuff to my car. I figured it's not even 10 a.m. yet, no one that's going to care what I have on will be up this early on a Saturday morning. I get to my car and the guy parked next to me must've been drunk when he got home because he's parked at an angle and I could hardly open my back door while holding my stuff. Obviously I'm in a rush here because, well, I just look silly. So I finally stuff my belongings into the back seat and make my way back to my apartment.
As I'm walking, I'm looking at my shadow to and thinking "Why is it that when you know there's nothing covering your shoulders, it looks like you're naked in your shadow?" Yes, these are things that run through my head. I was also trying to make sure that my posture was as perfect as possible so there were no unsightly bulges escaping from my bathing suit. I wanted to at least appear as though I were a trained swimsuit model to and passers-by.
Ask me how many times I've climbed those stairs in the last four (and change) years. Ask me how many cases of water I've carried up said stairs without a problem, like it's a pillow. Ask me how many times I've had any sort of spill on those stairs.
Two. That's how many times I've come close to eating it. Until this morning.
Yes, as I got to stair number 11 (of course I count them - every time. you don't?) something happened. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't good. Perhaps the combination of counting and sucking in and walking gracefully was just too much. My brain overloaded, one of my feet miscalculated the distance to step number 12 and I was going down, down, down.
Why is that when you trip, the other foot doesn't realize that something's amiss and just stay put? Why does the other foot keep doing what it was orginally d0ing? Shouldn't they work as a team, always aware of what the other is doing and ready to compensate when their partner goofs? I think they should, but obviously this isn't the way it works. It's one of lifes cruellest jokes.
I was able to catch myself and have no injuries to report... yet. On the way down, all I could think about was how I didn't want to scrape my knees and then have to be at a water park today. I should've been more concerned with whether or not I was about to flash an innocent bystander because of a wardrobe malfunction. The good news is that the bathing stayed intact. In fact, I didn't even have to readjust once I pulled myself back up off the stairs as quickly as possible.
This had better not be a preview of what my day is going to be like. The next time I find myself going down, I'm staying down and playing dead. Someone better be standing by, ready to perform mouth-to-mouth.
Perhaps it wouldn't be a big deal if I hadn't been prancing around all morning in just my bathing suit. Thankfully, it's modest. In fact, I had a pretty tough time getting into it, thanks to the built-in corset made of spandex and elastic.
Right now, I'm pretty glad that nothing is moving anywhere in this suit because I took my chances with not putting anything on over my bathing suit to run my stuff to my car. I figured it's not even 10 a.m. yet, no one that's going to care what I have on will be up this early on a Saturday morning. I get to my car and the guy parked next to me must've been drunk when he got home because he's parked at an angle and I could hardly open my back door while holding my stuff. Obviously I'm in a rush here because, well, I just look silly. So I finally stuff my belongings into the back seat and make my way back to my apartment.
As I'm walking, I'm looking at my shadow to and thinking "Why is it that when you know there's nothing covering your shoulders, it looks like you're naked in your shadow?" Yes, these are things that run through my head. I was also trying to make sure that my posture was as perfect as possible so there were no unsightly bulges escaping from my bathing suit. I wanted to at least appear as though I were a trained swimsuit model to and passers-by.
Ask me how many times I've climbed those stairs in the last four (and change) years. Ask me how many cases of water I've carried up said stairs without a problem, like it's a pillow. Ask me how many times I've had any sort of spill on those stairs.
Two. That's how many times I've come close to eating it. Until this morning.
Yes, as I got to stair number 11 (of course I count them - every time. you don't?) something happened. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't good. Perhaps the combination of counting and sucking in and walking gracefully was just too much. My brain overloaded, one of my feet miscalculated the distance to step number 12 and I was going down, down, down.
Why is that when you trip, the other foot doesn't realize that something's amiss and just stay put? Why does the other foot keep doing what it was orginally d0ing? Shouldn't they work as a team, always aware of what the other is doing and ready to compensate when their partner goofs? I think they should, but obviously this isn't the way it works. It's one of lifes cruellest jokes.
I was able to catch myself and have no injuries to report... yet. On the way down, all I could think about was how I didn't want to scrape my knees and then have to be at a water park today. I should've been more concerned with whether or not I was about to flash an innocent bystander because of a wardrobe malfunction. The good news is that the bathing stayed intact. In fact, I didn't even have to readjust once I pulled myself back up off the stairs as quickly as possible.
This had better not be a preview of what my day is going to be like. The next time I find myself going down, I'm staying down and playing dead. Someone better be standing by, ready to perform mouth-to-mouth.
2 comments:
I volunteer to be ready for that supposed next fall.
You are hired! My next fall is scheduled for mid to late December. Not one day before.
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