So, right now I'm wearing my one tank top. It feels weird and I've decided that I'll never go out in this thing until I buy a strapless bra and figure out a thorough, quick way to shave my pits. I don't think I'm going anywhere today, so I'm fine with wearing it. If I'm mistaken, I have a load of my laundry in the wash, so no worries.
So, I have a little story. This happened two days ago when I went to the Milwaukee Zoo with my brother, Tim. I shall call this tale...
Acey, Saver of Hats
It was around three o' clock in the afternoon and I was exhausted. I had went to the zoo so I could take pictures of the animals and maybe enter some of the photos in the county fair. After having been at the zoo for about two and a half hours, my brother and I had finally finished looking at all the exhibits.
We had just left the monkey exhibit, much to my pleasure. Heading towards the zoo's entrance, I had just finish telling Tim how tired I was from walking around for two hours. He insisted that I was out-of-shape, but I didn't feel like arguing.
A gust of wind blew. Clenching onto my camouflage-colored hat, I kept walking forward. I was especially surprised at myself with how I had dressed that day. I was wearing my light pink Mori no Ike t-shirt, my camouflage Awana hat, and dark-blue jeans, all the while carrying my leather, brown purse and a camera case. If anything, I looked like a normal somewhat girly-girl.
One of the tour trams passed by and a strange yet oddly familiar scene played out before me. Toward the front of the tram was a mother and her young girl, who looked about three or four years old. As they passed, a tiny, white hat fall to the ground. When I looked back at the tram, I could see the distress in the mother, realizing that she could not leave the tram while it was in motion to get the hat. The tram driver would not stop, either.
My heart panged in confusion for a few seconds before settling on a decision. Pushing my stuff to Tim as I asked him to hold it, I ran over to the hat, picked it up, and sprinted down the road to where the tram had just gone.
The fatigue I had complained about earlier was superseded by my goal to rescue the hat and return it. I saw the mother waving at me as I approached closer and closer; she knew I had the hat.
When I was finally near enough, I reached out the hat to the mother, who took it gratefully.
"Wow, thank you!" she exclaimed to me. I just grinned in response, letting my legs slow from their sprint to a stop.
Instantaneously, after I was done, I jogged back to my brother. Once I reached him, I felt the weight of my weariness sit on me. We walked and talked our way back to where our car was parked, with me noting how wet my pants felt with sweat.
Because of all this, I thank God for the glorious Qdoba Mexican Grill. Nothing tastes better after rescuing a hat for a little girl, who reminds one of one's own self.
It was around three o' clock in the afternoon and I was exhausted. I had went to the zoo so I could take pictures of the animals and maybe enter some of the photos in the county fair. After having been at the zoo for about two and a half hours, my brother and I had finally finished looking at all the exhibits.
We had just left the monkey exhibit, much to my pleasure. Heading towards the zoo's entrance, I had just finish telling Tim how tired I was from walking around for two hours. He insisted that I was out-of-shape, but I didn't feel like arguing.
A gust of wind blew. Clenching onto my camouflage-colored hat, I kept walking forward. I was especially surprised at myself with how I had dressed that day. I was wearing my light pink Mori no Ike t-shirt, my camouflage Awana hat, and dark-blue jeans, all the while carrying my leather, brown purse and a camera case. If anything, I looked like a normal somewhat girly-girl.
One of the tour trams passed by and a strange yet oddly familiar scene played out before me. Toward the front of the tram was a mother and her young girl, who looked about three or four years old. As they passed, a tiny, white hat fall to the ground. When I looked back at the tram, I could see the distress in the mother, realizing that she could not leave the tram while it was in motion to get the hat. The tram driver would not stop, either.
My heart panged in confusion for a few seconds before settling on a decision. Pushing my stuff to Tim as I asked him to hold it, I ran over to the hat, picked it up, and sprinted down the road to where the tram had just gone.
The fatigue I had complained about earlier was superseded by my goal to rescue the hat and return it. I saw the mother waving at me as I approached closer and closer; she knew I had the hat.
When I was finally near enough, I reached out the hat to the mother, who took it gratefully.
"Wow, thank you!" she exclaimed to me. I just grinned in response, letting my legs slow from their sprint to a stop.
Instantaneously, after I was done, I jogged back to my brother. Once I reached him, I felt the weight of my weariness sit on me. We walked and talked our way back to where our car was parked, with me noting how wet my pants felt with sweat.
Because of all this, I thank God for the glorious Qdoba Mexican Grill. Nothing tastes better after rescuing a hat for a little girl, who reminds one of one's own self.
1 comment:
Maybe if you exercised more you wouldn't be so tired in the future... don't hurt me...
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