Background: Every Sunday, after worship, my church holds an informal potluck luncheon. It is a great opportunity to fellowship and practice witty conversation. Or, in today's case in point, I get to experience an incredibly awkward moment that, until today, only seemed to occur in Regency-era novels.
Setting: In the middle of the food line, hemmed in by church goers on all sides. Each and every person in line is hoping to get the last corndog. And then, out of the blue...
Elderly Gentleman of the Church - "So, where's your man?"
Self (Completely startled and half-wondering if I ignored the question, would it just get repeated louder?) - Long pause..."I have no idea."
E.G. of the C. - "Did you lose him?"
Self (Wondering if this is a really and truly a bad dream, and also realizing that crawling under the food table was no longer an option at my age.) - Even longer pause... "Uhhh...no, he just hasn't showed up yet!"
Lady Catherine meets Mr. Collins, and all of this
on the eve of my twenty-seventh birthday.
on the eve of my twenty-seventh birthday.
1 comment:
that ... is pretty spectacular.
i am sure it did not feel spectacular at the time, however. :)
Post a Comment