I’m sure this will be hard for any of you to believe, but I am not actually perfect. Yeah. I know. You’re all probably shaking your heads in denial right now, wondering how The Wingoov you love (I’m pretty sure, right?) could be anything less than the paragon of preposterously perfect perfection you’ve all come to know and admire and blindly follow and stuff.
But, it is true. I am, in fact (hope you’re sitting down), a goof.
There is a mounting pile of evidence that points to this great truth. Allow me to share some of this evidence with you now – you may draw your own conclusions:
When my husband was getting our old house ready to sell, one of the things he had to do was rip up the rotten boards on our front porch to replace them with fresh lumber. This work went on for several weeks. I was well-aware there was a big gaping hole in our front porch, and always steered myself around it whilst going in and out of the house. But one day I heard this car full of young people going through the neighborhood. I can’t remember now exactly what the kids in the car were doing – but I know there was a lot of volume, and I think there might have been some racing and tire-screeching, too. Concerned about the animals and young children in the neighborhood, I put on my Bossy Mom hat and marched out onto the porch to administer a sermon. Pointing finger raised to begin my lecture, mouth open to bark orders, the young faces beginning to turn my direction to hear what I had to say, I suddenly disappeared to their view. They must have been really bewildered by it all. One minute this cranky lady is standing on her front porch, about to lecture them, the next she’s gone.
I had fallen kiester-first through the hole in the porch.
After the initial shock of it wore off, I sat there – kiester dangling, arms and legs still holding me onto the porch – and started laughing so hard I couldn’t immediately extricate myself from my predicament. I pictured the looks on the faces of the teens in the car as I disappeared – befuddled frowns, mouths open in surprise.
The important thing, of course, is that they stopped the racing and the volume decreased and everyone – both two-legged and four-legged – was, once again, safe and secure in the neighborhood thanks to my brave and daring sacrifice.
But…well…I submit the evidence here points to the fact of my goofiness.
If this story has not yet convinced you, though, I shall share another example:
I have this wall-hanging from India hanging in my living room. It’s made of silk and has beads running along the bottom and top of it. It can’t be washed and laundered – it’s too delicate. But it needed to be cleaned, and I got it in my noggin that what might work to get the dust off it, would be for me to take it out to the back porch and shake it really hard.
So I took the wall-hanging off the wall and took it out to the back porch and, holding it from the top, gave it a really good “whap.”
One of the beads on the bottom whipped up and whacked me right in the middle of my forehead. Ohmygosh. It hurt so bad! But it was so dang funny, that I couldn’t stop laughing. My husband heard me laughing and crying simultaneously and thought he should take a gander to see what I’d gotten myself into this time. He noticed that I had a lump developing in the middle of my forehead – sort of giving me the look of a unicorn. “That thing leaves a permanent scar, and people are going to be thinking you’ve got the mark of the beast there,” he pointed out helpfully. And this remark, of course, set me to laughing so hard I wondered if I’d make it to the bathroom before peeing my pants.
I’m happy to report there is no permanent scar from the bead. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, too, that I did manage to make it to the bathroom in time.
And now I’ll leave it to you to draw your own conclusions regarding my goofiness. But I think after you ponder it from all sides, you’ll have to conclude that, not only am I a goof – I am the ALPHA Goof.