When I was a child, I was considered "shy", painfully shy. It wasn't that I was afraid to talk to people. And it wasn't that I didn't have anything to say. Believe me, I had plenty to say! It's just that I was worried that if I said what was truly on my mind, I'd end up in some sort of group home.
What? Well...yeah.... I've always had these weird thoughts and ideas in my head that I never express out loud. (Btw, the voices stopped when I hit puberty. Apparently I traded the voices for the monthly curse. I'd really like the voices back, please.)
When I went to college, I began experimenting with expressing some of the weird thoughts I had. I became known as "the quirky girl" and landed a spot in a sorority. Go figure.
I also have this thing where I act out certain situations in my head. Daydreaming? Call it what you will, but I always end up being the hero.
Weird, I know. Psychologists would have a field day with me. But I've rescued people from burning buildings, stopped run-away strollers from plunging into oncoming traffic, reunited dogs with their owners, helped deliver babies - you name it. I'm a hero. At least in my own mind...
It even happened this morning. I was taking a bag out to the curb because today is trash pick-up day. As I was rounding the corner, I saw this guy who visits us every Monday. He rides an old 10-speed bike with his clothing and personal possessions hanging from Walmart bags on the handlebars. He visits all the recycling bins and takes the deposit-worthy cans and bottles and returns them for 5 cents each.
When I saw the guy at our bins, I waited and hid behind the corner of the house and watched him. I expected him to grab some cans and continue on to the neighbor's bin, but instead I watched as he opened one of our trash bags and fished out an old piece of pizza. And took a bite.
And then I became a HERO....
I ran forward and said, "NO! Wait! I have some fresh pizza in the house. We just ordered it last night. Now, I'm not sure if you like Brazillian pizza - I don't because they put this gooey white cheese on it that looks and tastes like cream cheese but they insist on calling it something I can't pronounce and they put hard-boiled eggs on absolutely everything and I'm deathly allergic to egg whites, and oh my.....Next time you go through the trash, please be careful sir, because I threw away an epi-pen not too long ago and I sometimes have to test my blood sugar because...well, I'm old and borderline diabetic and I totally wouldn't want you to get pricked by a needle."
And then I went in the house and got the homeless man some fresh pizza and he didn't get salmonella or botulism or intestinal parasites or anything. And I was a hero.
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| The pizza I gave the homeless man. Except ours didn't have onions. And it had green olives instead of black. And it had five pieces missing. And it was in a cardboard box and not on a wood board. Otherwise, exactly the same. |
But really, I just stood there and watched him eat and when he looked up at me, I bent over and pretended to tie my shoe, but I wasn't wearing any shoes and I should probably schedule an appointment to get a tetanus shot since I'm walking on a porch with rusty nails holding together boards from 1915.
And then I said a prayer that the homeless man won't get salmonella, botulism, or intestinal parasites or anything bad and I swore to myself that I would start putting left-over food into goodie bags so it won't be contaminated by other trash. The End.
P.S. If you all promise not to band together and commit me, I'll share more of my hero stories in the future. The time where I stopped a man from putting poison in a girl's Dunkin while she was getting money from the atm is a classic that you won't want to miss.
