I like to dance. I love to move to the music in no formed patterns, but simply as I feel led at the time. I do not, however, like to dance in public. You might say I’m a closet dancer. Or a living room dancer, since that is usually where you can find me flailing around, flying through the air, and flinging myself over the couches to land unceremoniously on the coffee table.
The other day during one of these episodes, I noticed that we actually have a nice public view onto the street out the large windows in our living room. Two college girls were standing by the street looking back at me as I danced the River Dance to a rap song. (It’s harder than you think.) They weren’t so much laughing at me as just watching in amused fascination and curiosity. I was so caught off-guard. I quickly quit dancing, put my pants back on, and went to check on my dinner.
