Do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching?

Once upon a time when I was in middle school, a random – oh, I don’t know – 300lb dog pushed Little-90lb-Me over into a fetal position and humped me in front of the entire church retreat. Don’t you just love when embarrassing moments happen in front of an audience? For me, one other very specific instance comes to mind:

Every summer Brian and I attend Cornerstone Music Festival. Two years ago we participated in helping to promote RYFO, an organization for which we volunteer both as a host home and a service provider. Specifically, my service is my haircutting. Well, to draw interest, I was going to do free haircuts at the RYFO table while other volunteers did all the promoting. All I needed were my tools, a mirror and “a chair that went up and down.” But I didn’t have a chair that went up and down. Have you ever googled chairs that go up and down? They can be pretty expensive (especially when the haircuts are free and you’re not making your investment back). So before our trip I figured I’d check out the local Goodwill to see if anyone donated anything that would satisfy the rough requirements of a free haircut. Perhaps a stool or an office chair?

I drove to Goodwill and the parking lot was packed, so I parked in front of the next business over, a tattoo shop. And while I was quite a distance from the tattoo shop’s door, mine was the only car on their side of the parking lot.

Goodwill did, in fact, have a sufficient office chair that “goes up and down” and I’m pretty sure I only paid five bucks for it. Without a hitch I checked out and began rolling this gigantic, black leather monster to my car. You can’t miss my car. It’s a Chevy Aveo; and being both aqua in color and a hatchback, it kinda looks like a cheerful Easter egg.

It looks like this:

Oh no. I don’t think this will fit!

Now imagine for a minute: There I am, teetering on my flowery wedges, in my girly, lacey tank top, rolling a chair that’s half my size over to my (teeny, tiny) jellybean car that’s sitting alone in a vacant parking lot. I veered right, toward the car, but noticed in my left peripheral vision that two tattoo artists were taking a break, sitting outside their shop, enjoying the view. And by view, I mean me trying to get my roly-poly, fat, black leather office chair into the Jellybean. Yes, they could have offered to help me, but I was just far enough away that they decided to watch me instead.

I felt like Princess Fancy Pants on the Cool Kids’ turf.

Let’s make this as quick and painless as possible. Be cool. Be nonchalant.

I rolled the chair up to one side of the car and opened the back, right passenger door.

Quick and painless. Quick and painless. …Oh, this won’t work.

Then I opened the front, right passenger door and moved that chair forward to make room in the back.

Then I went back to the door behind it and I hoisted the chair up and attempted to cram it in the side.

Quick and painless. Quick and painless. …Oh, this won’t work.

I set the chair back down.

Then I rolled the chair behind the car and opened the hatchback.

Oh, this won’t work.

I returned to the original passenger door and put the back seat down on the right side.

Then my flowery wedges and I walked over to the back, left passenger door and moved that side of the back seat down, creating enough room for the chair to fit in the back of the car.

Then I hoisted the chair up once again – quick and painless – only to awkwardly fumble, bumble and drop the chair back down…

…on my toe.

Mother!

I shut my eyes, turned my back on the audience, bit my lip, and something quiet, muffled and urgent like, “Hhhhhhhuuuuuuhhhhhgggggggmmmmmmmmfffff!!!!!!!” hummed painfully inside my mouth.

Maybe they didn’t notice.

Now attempting to get this chair into the trunk with one damaged toe looking awfully uncomfortable in my flowery wedges, I hoisted the leather monster into my car for the third time. Shuffle. Adjust. Shove.

I made it!

And then I turned around to face my audience.

And then I took a bow.

They. Actually. Applauded.

Tattoo artists, “Bravo!” “GOOD job!”

Awesome. No, it wasn’t quick. And it wasn’t painless. But my clients sure enjoyed watching me demonstrate that story for the next week. And many musicians got their hair cut in the black leather monster that summer. So whatEV.

This post is my response to my friend Alyssa’s post, The Mirror Incident. Yes, Alyssa, naturally I’ve had furniture debacles. My life if full of debacles… and incidents. (It’s a good thing we can laugh at ourselves!)

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