You spill water on a newly ordered library book (I am the first to check it out--ever)? I am going to have to turn it in and confess my deed. Do I send it with a note? Do I tell the kind older lady or younger tattooed lady that I would like to buy the book outright, because it pretty much changed my life?
Then, every time I reach the epilogue and turn the very wrinkled pages, it will remind me of that plane ride. The ride where I spilled a full cup of ice water on the book and my lap, making me look like I peed my pants. And I didn't care about other people seeing that guilty looking patch of pants, but I did care about walking around the airport with very wet, cold jeans. Which is the worst. (!) I've come a long way since high school, when I sat in a wet restaurant chair before the homecoming dance, staining my gray satin skirt. I was so emotionally fragile and nervous that I first accused my overly sweaty legs of soaking through 10 layers of tulle rather than think the chair was to blame. I spent the rest of the night overly apologetic and shuffling along walls to hide the dark spot.
So I really hope I can buy this book. Because it reminds me of how much I love being a twin, how much I love actually having self esteem (and not being in high school), and how I probably got the swine flu from the guy coughing next to me on the plane. All equally important and historic facts.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Posted by Malorie at 5:11 PM