You’re in a nice restaurant and you look around at everyone sitting so straight-backed and elegant, doing their best to look like they belong. But really, you know that most of the people around you would rather be lounging in a pair of sweatpants and a comfy old T-shirt.
Despite this, everyone is enjoying the “dress-up” time because that’s the only way that they can eat the delicious food that is only served at this restaurant.
As you’re sitting at your table – talking, laughing, eating, sipping wine – you notice this quasi-lady walk by in the direction of the lady’s room. You’re not sure why you notice her. Maybe she looks like she’s trying a little too hard. Maybe she reminds you of you. And maybe you sense that she’s dying to take off her high heels. But then just as you’re about to turn your attention back to the conversation at your table, you watch as quasi-lady suddenly trips going up the stairs.
I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Quasi Lady.
All that to say that on Friday I tripped and broke my nose.
Only I wasn’t in a fancy restaurant. And I wasn’t wearing high heels. I was in my kitchen getting a glass of juice.
What did I trip over?
I have no fricken clue.