Sometimes I’m not the smoothest guy in the world. That is a nice, indirect way of saying that I’m a klutz.
You? I know you’re saying, the guy who is lucky if his socks match, you’re not all together all the time? I’m afraid not.
Recently, for example, I was supposed to drive down to Poolesville, Md, to meet some friends for a mountain bike ride. I was driving past Middletown when I did an inventory check. Me? Check. My bike helmet? Check. Bike water bottle? Check. Bicycle? Bicycle? I knew I had forgotten something.
I returned home, grabbed the bike, and left again, only I got lost and by the time I got there my friends were done biking and had split.
Welcome to my klutzy world.
A world where I sprained my ankle when I missed a step while carrying some boxes for a friend moving out of a second story building.
A world where I almost did the same thing soon after while helping another friend move. Not to mention that I hit my head not once or twice but three times on the stairs. You’d think I’d notice. Well, I did notice the pain, I just forgot to duck.
And then there was my bad pants day. I do my laundry at a laundromat and I fold most of the pants but I apparently missed one. Usually if I find a pair of wrinkled pants I can hang it on top of a door and the wrinkles go off to wrinkleland.
When I slipped these pants on before work I thought they were wrinkle-free.
The first clue there was a problem came when a colleague gave me a look. I couldn’t read the look. Then I heard him say, “Excuse me for a minute.” He interrupted the interview so he could turn to me and say, “Do you have time to go back and change those,” pointing at my pants.
I told him that no, I had to attend a meeting in ten minutes. He grimaced on my behalf and resumed his interview.
I hoped that by walking the wrinkles would go away but alas, it was not so. After that, I stood up less than usual. The fewer trips to get water or tea, the less chance of people noticing the incredible amount of wrinkles between my knees and ankles.
Later, two other colleagues pointed out the problem to me and I walked around more self-conscious than ever.
I thought of going next door to the laundromat to toss my pants in the dryer for 10 minutes but I just didn’t feel like doing a strip show in the laundromat. Especially not the one right next door to work. Especially for free. (That’s a joke, for the record.)
Those pants have been retired. Punished for their bad behavior. Sent to Goodwill, unless that establishment rejected them too. On second thought… maybe I should have removed the wrinkles first.
Meanwhile, I’ve been more careful about my clothing selections. So if you happen to see a guy limping, trying to bike, but without the bike, or having a bad clothes day, don’t be surprised, just give him some sympathy, empathy, or aspirin.Powered by Sidelines