As if my affinity for boy bands, small animals, and all things Disney wasn’t proof enough, I outdid myself the other day.
I went to the municipal building on Tuesday at lunch in order to drop off my property tax payment. That sounds like a really adult thing to do, right? I mean, an insultingly large check to pay the property taxes on the house I own? Totally grown up stuff.
I was walking up the steps outside, the steps that face onto the major street with tons of cars and pedestrians passing by, and I remember specifically telling myself to concentrate so that I wouldn’t trip and embarrass myself. And what happened? I tripped. But I didn’t just trip and keep going, like I meant to do it. I tripped and then BAM was on the ground on my hands and knees. It took a second, but then I shot back up and kept right on going because really, who trips walking up the stairs?
When I got into the tax office, I told the nice lady that I was there to make a payment and I pulled out my checkbook. My Winnie the Pooh checkbook. As I was filling out the check, I realized that I had somehow managed to scrawl all over my left hand with the pen. I glanced up to make sure that the woman didn’t notice, and sure enough, she was staring at me with a look of both pity and confusion. I handed over the money, took and receipt, and I swear I heard her giggle as I walked out.