My dear old grandpa used to say, “A little sweat never hurt anybody.”
Well … I beg to differ.
Now I don’t mind sweating when sweating is appropriate. Like on a tennis court. You’re supposed to sweat on a tennis court; if you don’t fling around fist-sized drops of perspiration when you shake your head or mop buckets of moisture off your forehead with your wristbands, it’s a surefire indication that you’re not doing what you’re supposed to be doing.
Working up a sweat.
But not in a live professional presentation before hundreds of people.
Yet that’s what happened to me a couple weeks ago when I was all set to do a Facebook Live presentation for a writer’s conference. I had painstakingly prepared my speech, polished my presentation to blinding gleam, and convinced my main techie (poor, longsuffering Spouse) to set up a mini-studio in my living room, complete with cool backdrop, wireless mic and professional-quality studio lighting.
We were scheduled to go live at 6 pm.
Then at 4 pm, I was just finishing my last pre-dress-rehearsal run-through when a bead of sweat the size of a kumquat trickled down my back. I thought it was nerves. Until Spouse walked in the house and hollered, “Hey! Why does it feel like a sauna in here?”
Yup. The house AC had gone MIA. In central Florida. With 90% humidity. In July.
You know the old saying: When sweat rains, it pours. (Or something like that.) By the time I started attempting to fix my hair and apply make-up, it was 87 degrees. INSIDE the house.
I could almost hear Satan’s gleeful cackle as I took my place before the camera with a blindingly shiny face, flat lifeless hair (that appeared like I’d just stepped out of my pool, except that I don’t have a pool), half-moon underarm dark blotches on my pretty pink blouse with two distinct wet circles in front strategically highlighting Freddie and Flopsie (the bobbing twins), and beads of make-up dripping off my chin.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
And then right in the middle of my LIVE (did you catch that? LIVE means LIVE; no corrections or re-do’s!) presentation, the AC lady (yes, I said lady – go girls!) shows up. Our front door is ten feet away from my make-shift living room studio. DING. DONG. BANG. BANG. Oh, no distraction here.
But boy was I glad to see her. Within 30 minutes, she’d magically turned hades into heaven and I ended up besting that ole devil with the last laugh. I finished my presentation with panache.
And a pina colada. (Not really, but a girl can dream.)
Okay, girlfriend, your turn – when was the last time you got the last laugh when everything went wrong?
Naomi Risley says
Well, let me see….oh yeah on Wednesday, I was ran off road by a big jacked up Ford truck that was completely heading straight for me in my lane ( sure he was texting).
I was blowing my horn to no avail, but thanking my God, I was able to get out of his way.
Once I got home and calmed down, unloading my dishwasher, I dropped a fork and it hit me right in a vein on my leg and guess what color my blood ( yes black) for a sec or so. Finally stopped her stuff.?
Today, I was pampering a cut on my finger and emptying a keurig pod ( yes I recycle those ) I cut almost in the same spot as the other cut and was thinking if she didn’t stop bleeding I might need a transfusion.
On the upside, my eggs didn’t hit the floor as my whole bag of groceries did from truck incident and my fork didn’t stay in vein and plenty kleenex and bandaids for cuts. ? all true stuff.?? just keep smiling!!
Oh. My. Goodness. Naomi – your life should be a book! You keep those forks out of your veins, you hear? (You didn’t say, “Stick a fork in me; I’m done!” did you?) Maybe I should send you a First Aid kit (a BFF actually did that for me once after a series of accidents)!
Marsha Stephenson says
I love and appreciate your humor so much. I laugh out loud every time I read your amazing stories. Thanks so much for sharing! Everyone needs a little extra joy right now:)
Thanks, Marsha – I appreciate your support and taking the time to write more than I can express!