. . . so what better thing to do than share it with everyone? I hope writing has a therapeutic effect. I'm a little frazzled.
I wish I could write like James Herriot. He's so good at telling a good story against himself. I'm not good at telling stories at all, but here goes.
I've been really excited - with a little trepidation - about one of my new classes - Classical and Early British Literature. I'm taking it with a bunch of friends, and a lot of acquaintances. I remembered, unfortunately incorrectly, that the class started at 1:15. Not wanting to be late for the first class I showed up around 1:05. The door was closed and everybody was already seated (Wheaton students are all over-achievers, I assumed) so I slunk in apologetically. Or slunk as well as I could when the door was at the very front of the class room in front of rows and rows of staring, amused students.
I give up. I can't tell stories. Suffise to say the class started at 11:15. They were wrapping up. Dr. Foster thought I was early for the class next using that room. I knew that wasn't so. I was confused and embarrassed. My professor was just confused. I'm still embarrassed. It was a grand entrance. I hate being the center of attention.
But I heard the look on my face was priceless.
6 comments:
oh wow. that is lovely.
no, i think that has to happen to everyone at least once.
you can say you got it over and done with?
and i say it's a fair mistake.
Ahhhh... that's awful. Well, at least you now have a story when people demand to hear about your most embarrassing moment ever!
I'm so happy that you have a blog too!
~Laura
Dr. Foster: "Are you OKAY?"
Carol J. Miner: "No."
Priceless. Absolutely.
It was priceless.
Absolutely. Priceless.
It's okay. We still love you, Carol.
Perhaps even more so!
Oh my dear friends, I love you back! This must be why I blog. I'm laughing about it now. Shaking the head, but laughing still.
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