I’m the one with my foot wedged, it would seem perpetually, in my mouth. I have daily opportunities to put it there. I have grown accustomed to the taste of my shoe. It has become an easy fit. Like the man with marbles in his mouth, I’ve even learned to continue to speak clearly while it’s in there, thus allowing myself to shove it in completely and sometimes even a bit down my throat.
Of course I won’t tell you what I said, or to whom. Isn’t it enough to know that I am the real-life, American Bridget Jones? No, no autographs, no pictures.
I only got five rows of the HP scarf done this afternoon, due to the necessary Mommy job. I will be thinking of ways to try to get myself to keep my mouth shut while I work on it tonight (if I don’t fall asleep first). It’s not that I’m particularly talkative; just that when I do talk, I make a point of saying something embarrassing that I can dwell on and feel really humiliated about later. Gives me something to do while knitting, right?