Living on the Edge (of my Seat)

I practically fell off my chair. Well, okay, I actually fell off my chair.

It happened at work, in the back office, where I was hiding from customers and eating lunch. It wasn't because anybody made me laugh, or that the fax coming in from my attorneys was even mildly amusing. I just misjudged where the chair would be after I stood for a moment -- no doubt right where it had been before -- and when my butt hit the front edge the chair literally flew out from under me, crashing into the wall as I crashed to the floor. Even my ass has lost a bit of footing, it seems.

I wonder sometimes if it's obvious, if folks on the outside looking in can tell I am on shaky ground. I wonder if I appear as off kilter as the forty-something year old woman in Starbucks, the one who is clearly operating without a full set of marbles. She has emerged again after a bit of a hiatus, and she is in rare form. She has something to say to everyone. In my case, she expressed concern about my well being and asked me if I'd like to be set up with someone. What a frightening thought.

The other day, just as I was about to pack up and leave to escape her incessant babble, men of all shapes and sizes began to stream in to Starbucks and she quickly lost interest in me. She works the room from her seat, catching the guys completely off guard as they approach the counter to place their order, talking to each one as if they've known each other for years. They all get sucked in at first, taking a few seconds to realize they do not know this woman who acts so familiar. To everyone except her, their body language betrays a desperate search for an exit strategy as they try to remain polite. Even those of us who know her routine, who have relinquished some of our social graces to guard against her badgering, have a hard time extracting ourselves from her invasions.

I may not be as "outgoing" as she is, but am I as out of control? Is there a crazy look in my eye that I fail to notice in the mirror, one that is painfully obvious to everyone but me? I examined my face more closely this morning as I brushed my teeth, searching for signs. The crows' feet have expanded a bit (you know what they say about crows; big feet, big, um, talons); the dark circles continue to spread, conquering more square footage around my sockets by the minute. Hardened specks of yesterday's mascara cling fast to the inner corners, the youthful glow is long gone. Aging, maybe. Crazy? I don't think so.

Come to think of it, even though I am definitely on shaky ground these days, I might actually be quite sane. My daughter told me this morning that she thinks she gets her resourcefulness from me. I practically fell off my chair.