At the drug store, I spent too much money on makeup, then signed on the wrong line for the cold medicine I bought (have to show ID and sign your life, soul, and future offspring away to buy anything effective anymore). Then I turned to leave and knocked over a heavy metal magazine rack...which, thankfully, was empty. It made a loud clatter, though, and the many customers in the vicinity turned to stare/grin/gawk.
This is why I'm not blogging anything else today;* I'm afraid I might 'splode the internets. That wouldn't be good for anybody.
*Also, I'm waiting until tomorrow to get a haircut. The clumsiness could be contagious, and I won't take the risk of infecting a hairstylist holding sharp scissors close to my head.
If you don't feel that you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then possibly what you are doing isn't very vital. If you don't feel like you are writing somewhat over your head, why do it? If you don't have some doubt of your authority to tell this story, then you are not trying to tell enough. --John Irving