While in town today, I borrowed the ‘rents car to do some things around town. Now the hubster would say (and did!) that the real risk today is me driving. I’ll remind you once more, babe, you’ve gotten more tickets and been in more accidents than me. I don’t care if you are a stunt driver (this is not a nod to his driving skills; he actually is a stunt driver), it doesn’t count towards being a good driver.
Sorry for the sidebar. Those married or coupled folks out there can understand, I’m sure, that some arguments need to continue into things like blogs so that the point is made.
Anyway, the dancing. I was alone in the car for most of the day and chuckling to myself about how driving really is a risk for me, more than anything because I don’t do it very often, living in a city and all. I can drive and with the exception of the fact that I would rather get blackhead extractions than drive (I just don’t like doing it), I think I’m not terrible. But when I thought about that being the risk, I was disappointed in myself. I can do better than that.
I was listening to the radio, something that I actually don’t do very often now that I don’t have a car, and a good jam came one. Then I realized how I could up the risk: Dance my butt off.
This may be a wussy risk for some people, but I challenge anyone to say that they haven’t wanted to bust a move hard core while alone in their car but stopped themselves because they were at a stop light and did not want to see the look on the hot guy/girl’s face in the car next to them. Most of us reduce ourselves to simple air drumming on the steering wheel and maybe a head nod or two.
I decided instead to flail out, singing at the top of my lungs and waving one of my arms in the air (the other stayed on the steering wheel thank you very much my lovely hubby). I was shaking my booty in my seat and nodding my head vigorously. And it felt great.
And you know what? I was having so much fun, I have no idea if anyone even noticed. And I really don’t care.