Drop Edge of Yonder

When I bit into it, I could hear the ocean.

These Boots Were Made For Stompin’

Just kidding.  Anybody who knows me is aware that I don’t own a pair of boots.  There are certain Southern stereotypes I’m just not willing to play into.

But the truth is that I’m a heavy walker.  (When I say that out loud, it always sounds very Seinfeldian to me.  Wasn’t there an episode about a low talker?)  When I walk, things literally shake in my wake.  Knick-knacks are always toppling to the ground when I breeze by if they’re not pushed back far enough on the shelf.  People have been known to refer to my entrances as sounding like a herd of elephants.

I don’t know why I’m a heavy walker; I just always have been.  You’d think I’d be a little lighter on my feet since I’m so short, but it’s as if I make up for my lack of height with my astounding mass.  I try to walk quietly, but I can’t do it.  The only time I can walk without announcing my impending arrival 20 steps beforehand is when I shuffle in socks.  Thank goodness I don’t have to wear heels on the concrete floor of a classroom anymore, I suppose.


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