I should be in a circus

I'm willing to admit that what got me into this situation may be seen as klutziness. But what got me out was so skilled I should be in a circus.

I wore a skirt yesterday (which I pretty much always do: I'm still waiting for the day that daily wear is a giant t-shirt and underwear. With the addition of socks in the winter), a very long skirt. Almost ankle length. And shoes with heels.

Leaving the house requires going down three steps, something I've never had trouble with before. Ok, not often. FINE! Not more than a dozen times. A baker's dozen. This time, on the very top step - so really, I hadn't even started going down yet - the heel of one shoe caught the hem of the skirt, tripping me. Given my general lack of co-ordination*, you'd think, wouldn't you, that this whole thing would have ended up with torn skirt and bloody hands and knees. You'd be wrong!

With crazily cartwheeling arms - and yes, a squeal of astonishment - I managed to negotiate all three steps without falling. I'm pretty sure the whole thing was entertaining, but the thing is I managed it. It was neither pretty nor graceful but it worked. I did it. Ha!

* Except when ballroom dancing. A friend of mine suggested once that when I walk I hum a song in my head - I'm quite graceful when dacning (depending on the dance). I tried that, but I ended up walking downtown practicing the Latin Hip movement. Which is fine if you're a hooker, not so good if you're not.