The number of embarrassing moments in my lifetime ticked up one more this week. While out for a walk with my husband my foot slipped off the sidewalk. You’d think I’d only stumble, but no, that was asking way too much of my feet. They froze, acting like a couple of newbies who’d just barely learned to hold me up. I toppled, according to my husband, a full body seizure that looked like I’d been shot. The seizure had to be my hopeless attempts to get my feet into motion, because I seemed to have all the time in the world. I guess my mind decided I needed to savor every second before the epic belly-flop skid on cement. I ripped up the side of my hand and even nicked my nose, but that wasn’t the worst part. There had to be a car driving past to witness the whole thing. I mean it was the only way to make this doozy of a moment better—to have a man roll down his window and ask, “Is she okay?”

Oh why couldn’t the earth open up and swallow this spaz whole?