…the title is for my own personal satisfaction.
I’ve made myself quite the date-worthy wife, as of recent events (on Monday)- involving a go-cart, a wall, slip-on shoes, spiffy go-carting attire, and the intense speed limit of 25 mph.
So date-worthy in fact that J.’s co-workers are asking about my well-being… this is just great. Like I need any further factors to enhance my “weirdo” factor.
Despite my mishap- which was broadcast to the individuals not driving a go-cart at the time, and everyone who was driving the go-carts witnessed first-hand, it was a fun evening. I can’t remember the last time I drove a go-cart, or ever having driven one that goes close to 30 mph! It’s so exhilerating (I know, 30 mph, it’s insane speed…), that I was tensed up the whole time: white-knuckling the steering wheel, tensed back and shoulders, pressing the gas/brake so hard your calves are crying out in pain… it’s true. I wasn’t the only one that admitted to these doings.
It was sweaty and smelly and great… until my crash. Then I was sort of deflated… kind of literally. I wasn’t breathing right, the suit (which was not mandatory-but I thought I could be a bad-ass for a moment) was too constricting, the head mask was itching, my whole body was aching… I felt old and out of place.
I DID NOT COME IN LAST! I . DID . NOT . COME . IN . LAST! I said it twice, did it sink in? I came in better than three other people who had done this before.. yep!