6 + ∞
Two years ago I was sick in bed--bored, friendless, and depressed--when my little brother came in the room to cheer me up. "Lexie," he said very pensively, "on a scale from one to ten you are a six!" followed by rapid gasps from his hysterical laughter. He's a keeper. After my flu shot this week I thought I'd take a shortcut home over a very small fence. With my keys in one hand and important papers in the other I started one foot over the fence until my shirt got caught and I suddenly realized I didn't have any more hands. I came back down and spent an awkward minute rearranging my body position, trying to decide if I was capable of hopping a fence without ruining my clothes. Come on kid, you aren't 7 anymore you can do this! Needless to say I looked foolish. Although, not quite as foolish as when a few hours later I was riding my bike home from work and thought: I can make it over that curb. Ooooh. Nevermind. I can't. My...