Sweatin' the Small Stuff

The other day, when I was dancing in Brooklyn, I started with my big winter coat on, a zip-up hoodie under that, and a backpack on my back. I'm not trying to be an eccentric dancer -- "Chico and the Man"'s Jack Albertson can rest in peace -- it's just that I ran into someone upon my arrival who wanted to dance.

And I liked the idea of summoning up a terpsichorean sinuousness while all bundled up for winter travel. The girl I danced with liked it too. (Especially 'cause I was good.)

But then I realized I couldn't afford to sweat up my clothes 'cause it'd mean I'd have to wash 'em sooner, a significant (in my life, as you've come to know it) expense.

So, I stopped short of dancing myself into the poor house and, eventually, took off all the winter clothes to protect my primary garments from my body's oh-so-efficient saltwater cooling system.

Boy.

Economy can really be the enemy of funny.

__________________________________
20 February, 2007 @ 16:14 GMT
http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer