I’ve been accused of being an overenthusiastic storyteller (mostly by my husband) but I saw my alter ego today and, frankly, I’d rather hear a story from me. There was a woman in the locker room at the gym telling a pretty compelling story to another woman but she was SO unenthused about it. It was a pretty good story too, but she totally spoke in a monotone voice, even when talking about scary or dangerous things. “First. The. Car. Broke. Down. That. Was. An. Adventure. Then. Hal. Got. A. Ticket. That. Was. An. Adventure. Then. The. Cabin. Caught. Fire. That. Was. An. Adventure.” Everything was an adventure, but nothing sounded very adventurous. It sounded like she was talking about doing last night’s dinner dishes. Or doing the laundry. “Then. I. Separated. The. Whites.”
I just don’t get it. I spend 90% of my day trying to make the mundane sound interesting and to sit and watch someone waste a perfectly good story (and it was a really good story) by making it sound more boring than it really was….it kills me. I wanted to follow her home and jump out from behind some bushes to see how she would react. “That. Was. Really. Frightening. I. Can’t. Wait. To. Tell. Gladys. At. The. Gym. Tomorrow.”
The things we leave behind.
1 day ago