This is a little story about how socially awkward I am. On a scale of one to Ugly Betty, I range somewhere around one of the nerds from the Big Bang Theory, only substitute books for science and add in a simblance of fashion sense. (Congratulations to Jim Parsons on his Emmy win, by the way!) If you knew me in high school or college or ever, you probably remember me accidentally sticking my foot in my mouth about twice a day, and my knack for sharing things I probably should have kept to myself (Like how I recently told a friend-of-a-friend that I had been to her house before [with said mutual friend] the very first time I met her. Creepy!). Also worthy of mention are my old favorite dress that had a large printed fish pattern on it, the time I cried in the middle of class over a book I had spilt red kool aid on, or how I sometimes only put eyeliner on one eye by accident. The list continues.
See? Proof of my awkwardness. I took the time to stage this, take multiple shots to get it just right, and then post it to Facebook, and now my blog. I've still forgotten to be embarrassed by it, although I am aware that I probably should be. Sorry, Tyler!
Also, nothing is more awkward that Monday. Mondays aren’t bad for me in the typical sense. I don’t get grumpy or mad at the world because I once again have to interact with it, but it does take me about a day to recalibrate back to being in public. During that day, I usually do things like forget that I’m not wearing my weekend yoga pants and thus forget to sit like a lady, or actually forget to change out of my weekend yoga pants and look like a total slob. At work. Ooops.
Also, it should be noted that all this does affect my sweet, patient, normal-ish husband. He blushes on my behalf with frequency. (I say -ish because he has some oddities too, but he hides them better.) He’s probably blushing now, shaking his head and thinking, “Why on earth would you post this publicly, Amanda? Why?” To which I would just reply with a sheepish grin because I don’t have a good answer to his bemused queries.
So, with all this in mind, I respectfully submit this antidote to you for your reading pleasure:
This morning, I got to work a little early and I realized that I had not yet eaten. (I forget to eat sometimes. I’m not sure why, after all I really love food. But I do it all the time. I would probably eat twice a day on a good day if Tyler didn’t insist that I feed him regularly. Sheesh. He’s so high maintenance.) So as I was walking around the store turning things on and straightening up a little bit, I was munching on a rice cake with Nutella on top that I had grabbed out of my lunch box. As I walked and munched at the same time, I heard a little rustling by the front door, so I went to check it out. As I walked, a movement caught the corner of my eye. I turned to look, and it was a kid! A little boy hiding in a clothing rack in my locked up, empty store! I did the logical thing and threw my hands in the air, rice cake flying, and screamed. The kid screamed back, and we just stood there for a moment screaming at each other.
The kid then said to me, “You’re crazy lady,” and ran out of my unlocked front doors. Well, crap.
I then heard a little “ech-hem” behind me. I turned slowly. There was a short-ish woman standing behind me, clearly the boy’s mother, with Nutella in her hair and on her face. My rice cake was resting face-down on the sleeve of her white shirt.
Well, crap again.
She reached over, plucked my sticky breakfast off of her soiled arm, handed it to me, and said, “I think you may have lost this.” I accepted it, a little stunned, and started to ask if I could get her a paper towel, but she just held up her hand to silence me and walked out of my still unlocked doors, scowling.
So, my breakfast was ruined. And I officially have a bad case of The Monday’s.
The moral of the story is: never forget to lock your front doors if your store isn’t open yet. Also, always stay home on Monday. It’s just safer that way.
Lovely Little Things 