I had the realization the other day that my social awkwardness when I'm feeling all floozy is just silly to behold. Sometimes I am really disappointed that no one else sees these moments. But I guess that I have learned that if I laugh at them, they don't seem so horrifying.
I was at the gas station the other day when I passed an old gentleman digging through the trash. I watched to see if he was looking for food scraps, coffee scraps, or cigarette scraps. When I saw him take a big mac wrapper out of the trash and examine it for crumbs, I got out and grabbed the (very worn and abandoned) box of pop tarts, felt around for the least squished packet, and handed it to him. He tried to say something, and then signed "Thank you". I felt so sad. I can't imagine how hard it would be to find a job if you couldn't speak, and didn't have the resources to help you find a job that would accommodate that. It kind of startled me, and so I panicked in how to respond, smiled at him in the weirdest way possible, and signed something that was probably a mix between, "Sorry", "Please," and, "Abbujabba". Then I ran away.
The next day, I was walking passed a man and a dog, and was so overcome by the cuteness of the dog, that I went to say, "Cute dog!" Only a demon temporarily took over my vocal chords, and what came out was "I like your dog" in the most demonic whisper I've ever heard. Then I ran away. Again.
I hope that poor guy doesn't have nightmares about me. Oh, well.
No comments:
Post a Comment