So thorough it's almost like depth

I try not to be, but sometimes I'm really self-involved. And by sometimes, I mean all the time. Let's not kid ourselves, just the simple fact that this blog exists is proof enough of excessive egocentricity. And lately it has extended well out from there.

Did you ever have a day where you felt, to borrow a line, irresponsibly hot? This is not something I am used to, as my general Cro-Magnon appearance and gait does not lend itself to levels of unbearable attractiveness. But Friday, man did I feel like I was working it and hard. My hair was actually doing its thing for once, my morning shave hadn't left me with the usual "just got out of an ice storm" burnt look to it, the new exercise routine seemed like it actually had paid off in terms of flattering my frame in my work clothes, and the outfit itself was totally coordinated.

All this just to set up the exact mood that I was in for the actual story. It heightens the effect, because the fall is generally greater.

So it's Friday and I'm in my office, working up some files and updating a database, feeling particularly cocky and self-assured. I have some business cards that I'm filing through and inputting into the computer. Now, in my office there are several of those big cubicle-type desk units, that basically cover three walls of the place. Each one is separated by maybe 6 inches of space from the others, so you can reach the electrical outlets behind them.

Somehow, I manage to drop a couple of the business cards into one of the little separations, deep in the back. Being the lazy person that I am, I try in vain to reach them by extending my arm from where I am sitting, but this is a no go. Still not wanting to have to actually get up and/or bend down to actually get to them, I instead just wheel my desk chair over as far as it will go, and just wedge my shoulder down into the separation to get to them. Again, I am about 5 inches too far off.

At another crossroads. I could: move the chair out of the way, squat down and crawl forward the requisite 15 inches under the desk to retrieve the cards. This does not appeal to me. I would rather just angle myself down a bit more while still getting to sit down. Because, as my oh-so-clever mind has realized, if I instead line up my neck with the gap, rather than my shoulder, I can actually slide into the crack and reach the cards.

This plan is flawless, up until the phone rings directly next to my ear, I freak out and manage to kick the rolling chair out from under me. The chair rolls completely out of my reach and suddenly I have no support for any part of my body, except from the sides of my jaw and upper neck that are both keeping my head from falling through the gap and simultaneously preventing me from breathing.

It is at this moment that the weekly courier chooses to swing by my office to check for any runs going out.

Just so we are clear, I am now wedged, in a corner, between two pieces of office furniture, by my neck, scrambling for purchase with my knees, gasping for breath, so that I don't manage to decapitate myself with my own desk, with a 275 lb man standing at my door, asking "Uhhh, so do you, like, have any packages going out?"

The only thing that got me through that whole situation was telling myself that while I did embarrass myself horribly, I looked really hot while doing it.

And that, my friends, is the highest level of conceited that you can get.