20 February 2012

whoops and hollers

I had a clumsy day yesterday. Nothing was safe.

I myself fell out of the passenger side of a car. I am still not quite sure how it happened. I opened the door to get out and just sort of slithered out and down.

On the beach, I pretended to pull a boy down toward the shore as if to go swimming, and ended up popping his finger out of joint.

In a restaurant, I took off my coat and whacked the guy next to me at the bar.

It wasn't just my body that was clumsy.

After the couple sitting next to us left, I said, "That was interesting. I assumed they were married, but neither of them had a ring on. They seemed kind of old to just be on a date."

"Uh," my date said, "they were my age."

Oops.

Later, when the woman on the other side of him was showing us pictures of the sunset on her phone, she joked about a book that explains how to use that phone.

"Oh," I said. "I know someone who took a whole class on that phone. But she was in her fifties."

Out in the car, he said, "You do realize that woman was in her fifties."

"Which woman?"

"The woman who you told about your friend who took a phone class being in her fifties, as if that implied that she was old."

Is there a deep hole anywhere around? Because I probably dug it, and I'm sitting at the bottom of it right now, needing rescuing after I fell right into the very pit that I myself dug.

The beach, though. Oh, the beach. Everything was shades of silver and the sun through the mist and the white fringe on the waves. It felt like escape.

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