#5: The (young) Dancing Dork

I apologize for the briefness of this Column. I know, I know, it barely seems worth it , except for the fact that it is about me.

The Bossman came in and told me that he "really appreciated" all the work I did in coordinating the meeting I wasn't supposed to be coordinating. "Everyone raved about how smoothly it was all run." Ha, ha! In your face J.A.! That's right, I am the event planning goddess!

Of course this could all be stemming from the near nervous breakdown I had the day the caterer was late AND gave me the wrong order AND I was trying to figure out how I was going to get one of our international partners on a booked flight from China the weekend before Thanksgiving. Maybe The Bossman just doesn't want to be responsible for putting me in the nut house.

I caught myself wandering around my office last week asking myself (aloud, nonetheless) "Where did I put the Vandenberg file?" I stopped when I said it, straightened up and thought how ridiculously grown up I felt at that moment.

(I would just like to take this moment to reiterate to all of you and the respective rulers of the Universe that I am NOT getting older this year. It just ain't gonna happen. Says me - in poor English.)

Feeling ridiculously grown up is one of my least favorite things to do. So last night as I was putting away laundry I cranked my stereo and began dancing around the room. By myself.

It was all fun and games until the phone rang. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, (and then stupid, because, people on the other end of the phone line can not actually see me) I answered it with a nervous chuckle. It was a friend, thank goodness. He asked "What are you doing?"

"Being a dork," the ever honest, even when I don't necessarily have to be, me answered.

"How are you being a dork?" The prying, invasive, annoyingly interested in my life, friend asked.

"Ummm. I don't want to tell you." I said desperately wanting to maintain my dignity. (Because I know that's what you all think of when you think about me, "She is just so damned dignified.")

I eventually told him that I was dancing, alone, in my bedroom while putting away laundry (see afore-mentioned irritating self-trait of honesty) and will now have to put up with his never-ending mocking.

But, it keeps me young. And if you have never tried dancing around by yourself while you put away your laundry, I highly recommend it.

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