I know I talk a lot about the fact that my brain is not up to par these days. But I wish you could just experience it from in here. A bunch of us HBS partner women have been getting together for a weekly potluck over the summer. Tonight Meg hosted (and oh, that strawberry shortcake! Mmm, was it good!). I get to her apartment, and of course, the first thing I do is say, “hello,” and the second thing I do is head for the bathroom. It’s just kind of a given at this point. The bathroom is all of fifteen feet from the front door. Only, while I’m in the bathroom, I look down and realize my shoes aren’t on my feet. And the first thing that crosses my mind is, “Gee, did I drive all the way from Arlington to Cambridge and then walk four blocks without noticing I was barefoot?” The second thought I had was that that was nonsense and I must have taken them off at the door, although I had no recollection of doing so. It then it occurred to me that walking into a room full of people and just removing items of clothing–even shoes–is not the most polite thing to do. But hey, at least it was just my shoes. What happens when the heat gets to me and I just automatically take off my pants or hike up my shirt? Yikes, that’s a scary thought. Luckily, tonight, I was able to contain myself. Can’t say the same for Brown Brown though. At one point, Kara exclaimed, “Oh my God, your stomach is moving!” Sure enough Brown Brown was sticking some limb out in some odd direction and my stomach was going along for the ride. Now that we’re in private, he’s sitting tight. Sitting tight on my ribs, that is. Move it already!
Where to Find Me
Where to Find Me
