I love living at Hummingbird Farms for many reasons, but one of the main reasons is because it provides me my wide-open spaces that I just have to have. And I’m completely serious when I say HAVE TO HAVE. I am, you see, extremely claustrophobic. And by claustrophobic, I don’t mean that being in small spaces or crowds is a bit displeasing to me. I’m telling you that I completely wig out, as in find me a corner so I can get in a fetal position and suck my thumb, kind of wigged-outedness.
I just love that I’m telling my inner secrets and insecurities on the World Wide Web.
Anyway y’all, last night I had a conniption fit in an elevator. Sometimes I wonder why I ever leave the farm… As soon as I pull out of my gate everyday I think to myself, “who else will be subjected to my all out dorkness today?”
I could write a book on all my most embarrassing moments. And most of the time, my most embarrassing moments have had to do with making a fool of myself due to my phobia of elevators and other small or crowded spaces. I don’t remember when I didn’t have this problem phobia. My mother thinks my claustrophobia occurred when I was 3 years old when I fell out of a swing and through the air and did a belly-flop on the backyard lawn. Darn those belly-flops!
As a result of my cannon-ball jump minus the pool, I managed to bite through my tongue. That’s right y’all, I bit right through it, which led to the need for some stitches in my tongue. I guess my parents didn’t feel a forked tongue would be appropriate for their darling angel.
While at the emergency room attempting to be stitched up, I apparently wouldn’t lie still, because – well, I was 3. And I assume that the doctors got tired of trying to rationally explain to me what they needed to do, so they just wrapped me up in a sheet instead.
You know, it was the era of children should be seen and not heard…
So there I laid (or lied?) on a cold metal table wrapped up like a human burrito with my mouth pried open and tongue pulled out with those stainless steel tong things.
Perhaps my mother is right about this being the culprit of the claustrophobia thing. And maybe for the reason I’ve actually taken scissors to sweaters because I couldn’t get out of them quick enough …
Anyway, back to last night. I had this very important business dinner meeting to attend. Let me put it to you this way, it was important enough of a meeting to include some highly profiled men and women, not to mention a few senators, congressmen, and a hodgepodge of CEO’s and the like….
And yes, I did say a little prayer on my drive in to please not let me expose anyone there to another one of my most embarrassing moments. I begged and pleaded to not let lettuce hang from my front tooth, to not say anything stupid, and to please, please not tee-tee in my pants if I laughed too hard …
Well, I forgot to ask not to have to ride in an elevator; and so it was inevitable – I had to ride in an elevator. Yes, I tried to take the stairs but was told the exit doors were all locked. Why do they do that?
So I get in the elevator and people began pouring in. They kept coming in. The doors attempted to close several times, but someone’s arm kept popping in to open the doors yet again. I was standing next to my boss’ boss and my heart was beating out of my chest. I’m in the very back of this elevator and I blurt out, “I don’t think I can do this.” A very nice sophisticated lady on the other side of me says, “oh honey it’s fine, just breath.” She gave me this most pitiful look, so I guess I must have been turning red and had sweat beads dripping from my forehead.
She looked at me again and said, “Honey, IT’S OKAY, we’ll be out in a second.”
This elevator is so full that the alarm, beeper thing is beeping. I’m in an all out freak-out, gonna-have-a-humdinger-conniption-fit-right-this-very-second-mode. I am literally busting from the seams. Then my arm did this strange reflex thing and shot up in the air as if to declare my stand or ask for permission to speak or something, and I yelled, “I gotta get out of here!”
Then it was silence. I think everyone was so shocked that anyone could be so undignified in an elevator full of very dignified people.
And then the doors opened. And I couldn’t get out of there quick enough! Oh, I’m so embarrassed! I had to apologize to my boss’ boss for being so spastic and making such a fool of myself.
Why is it that things like this have to happen when I’m trying to be all smart and sophisticated and stuff?
Now I really don’t know why I just told this story. It was either to talk about how I truly need the calming effects of lavender, or about how much I love my space out here and how the city seems to be crowding me out more and more each time I visit.
And this is coming from someone that JUST HAD to be a city girl for 20 years.
As much as I couldn’t imagine not living in the city then, I can’t imagine not living at Hummingbird Farms now …