Mortification Monday

Yes, it's that time again.  I know you're holding your breath wondering if it's you who's up today.  So, you can relax and let it out now . . . unless you're Yella. :)

One of the best parts of law school was having the opportunity to live with two of my best friends, Hilary and Daniella (Yella).   Yella is one of the most fun people you will ever meet . . . and one of the clumsiest.  (Yes, I know, I'm not one to talk in this area, but as I said last week, start your own blog.)  

If I had a dollar for every time she came dragging her computer bag into the library having had some terrible accident while walking to it, I'd, um, have several dollars.  (Yella, I will willingly admit the time I came dragging in with holes in my jeans and bloody knees because of my own mishap while walking and peering enviously at a van with an unjustly good parking space.)  

Surprisingly, however, this post is not about being coordinationally-challenged.

Yella, Hil, and I lived in a downstairs apartment with a sliding glass door that opened to the front of the building.  One night we apparently decided the lock on said door was not secure enough, so we set about making our home a safer place.

One of us had the bright idea of putting a broomstick in the door track to prevent anyone from being able to open the door.  Good idea, no?  Well, we didn't have a broomstick, just a broom.  After determining that an entire broom would not serve the same purpose, I said, "I guess we need a saw."

You see what my point was, right?  Not Yella.

I'm not sure where we got the saw  - seems like an odd thing for us to have owned - but the next thing Hil and I know, we look over at the door, and there's Yella with a saw.  Only, she's not using it to cut the broomstick as we had expected.

She's laying the saw in the door track and saying, perplexedly, "I don't think this is going to work."

Just for the record, she went on to graduate near the top of our class, pass the bar exam, and become a successful attorney.  I do not foresee a future in home security or engineering, however.

Another funny thing about this night was once Hilary and I stopped laughing and told Yella that the saw was to cut the broomstick, we set about doing so.  (This was around midnight, by the way.)  Our upstairs neighbor, Josh, walked past our sliding door toward his apartment and would tell us later that if he had seen any other group of girls trying desperately to saw a broom in half on their loveseat at midnight, he would have had questions . . . or at least been surprised.  But, given that he was a veteran at walking past our door at midnight, he knew better than even to ask.