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| My Saturday night, with a side of bloody knee and shame |
Some days, you just feel awesome. Rockin' your heels, hair blowing like a shampoo commercial, totally cool and confident. You know, Gracie Hart post-pageant coaching, with a touch of Beyonce.
Then sometimes you're in a public bathroom wiping gravel out of your freshly bloodied knee wound. Because sometimes when you're walking alone to eat dinner alone at a coffee shop, you trip over the sidewalk and break your fall with your knees. While you're wearing a lepoard print backpack. Right across the street from what looks like half the back-up squad for the US Men's Soccer Team.
It's fine.
I won't say which kind of weekend I had but I will say I sometimes wonder if the universe is more obvious with its directions than we give it credit for. You see, Saturday night I really, really wanted to stay in. I could take another crack at the whole hard-boiled egg thing, maybe even see if I could mooch off someone's Netflix so I can finally check out Orange is the New Black.
I had already exhausted my friends list (of one) and nothing had come up, so I had every excuse to stay in. But then I told myself, "Maybe you'll go out and you'll run into Barry (Obama), but you'll never know if you don't go."
So I put on some pants and I got myself out there. But I didn't run into Barry; I ran into the sidewalk. I'm writing this now with a piece of tissue stuck to the gash on my knee, compliments of the coffee shop bathroom.
And I'm thinking maybe this is just the universe telling me I should have stayed in. I mean, what would have I even said if I ran into Barry anyway? "Sucks about that lawsuit threat, but I follow at least 5 people on Twitter who've totally got your back." I was wearing a leopard print backpack, for Christ's sake.
No, I should have gone with my gut. And when your gut says no pants, so God help you if you put on a pair anyway.
