Flashdance

I was at the mall today with MIL looking at pans before we went to the temple. Traffic wasn't as bad as we thought it would be and so we had some time to kill before doing a 1:00 session. As we walked around I was mesmerized (as I usually am) by the flowiness of the skirt I was wearing. Even though it totally doesn't look like one, it always reminds me of a dress that someone would wear while dancing ballroom, which got me thinking about SYTYCD (So You Think You Can Dance).

So then I starting thinking about what would happen if I just kicked my leg up as high as it would go. Would my dress soar up gracefully like the SYTYCD dancers' stretching into a rippling half moon? Would I look like a woman attempting a karate move in a green skirt? Do I even have enough room in this skirt for my legs to split that far apart? What if I ripped my skirt trying to pull a move like that? I snickered to myself, imagining that scene.

All these thoughts were going through my head when suddenly I had a flashback to another dance move in another time. I was oh... say, 10 years old or something and it was October of that year.

How do I know it was October? Well because, as was my tradition, I had made ghosts out of Kleenexes and hung them from my ceiling to celebrate the holiday.

Anyway, I had already gotten dressed for bed in one of my floor length nightgowns and I was standing next to the bunk bed in my room looking at one of my ghosts. As it turns out that ghost was right about at my head level. Hmm... I wondered to myself. I wonder if I can kick that ghost? I can kick pretty high... So I stepped back, lined myself up, and went in for the kill.

Wham!

I was suddenly on my back, staring at the ceiling, and gasping for breath. What the heck? How did I get here?

Oh right, remember that floor length nightgown? The one with the ruffle around the bottom hem? The one that has no give and/or stretch in the event that a young girl would try to kick something as high as her head? Mmm hmm, yeah. That's the one.

In essence I had clotheslined myself (or something to that effect) at the ankle and wound up flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me. Since the only thing more embarrassing than literally drop kicking yourself is having someone there to witness the debacle, so I jumped up and pretended the whole thing never happened.

Until now.

Due to the resurfacing of that suppressed memory I did not perform a SYTYCD move in the housewares department at Macy's. Instead, I continued on like a normal human being, grateful that only you, my blog friends, get to hear the inner workings of my mind.


P.S. I dropped a whole roll of toilet paper into the commode about 10 min. ago. How would Miss. Manners address this situation?