Every now and then, I get to a point where I think 'Really PM? You're x years old, you really should have known better'. Like the time when I was 20 and I cut my own fringe, ending up with a little sprout of hair just above my ear that couldn't even be covered with a headband.
Today was such a time. I think I can pin the moment of revelation down to the very second. I was standing with one foot on my side of the fence, one foot on the neighbours. Lasagne for their hordes of visiting family in my hands and chicken wire fence tangled up in the crotch of my stockings. "I'm stuck" was what I thought. Quickly followed by "Hmm, I wonder how I can free myself without spilling the lasagne, attracting a crowd, or hindering my ability to have children". Without going into too much detail (I've probably already crossed the TMI boundary), I can tell you that once I realised my dignity was beyond saving it was relatively easy to loose myself from the chicken wire clutch. However, while I can say that I lived to tell the tale - unfortunately I can't say the same for my stockings. Successfully detangled, I brushed myself off, delivered the food offering to my neighbours, frantically praying that the topless Tokelauean teen who opened the door hadn't seen my escapade from his lounge window, and chattering away as if I hadn't a care in the world.
Note to self. Be VERY careful when climbing over chicken wire fences. Especially if you're short. And if you're wearing a skirt and stockings? DON"T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!
Laughing at myself is funny. It's refreshing. It keeps me sane.
