Short people got no reason to live…
The other day, Hubby commented that he has “altitude sickness”…he’s sick of my lack of altitude. I’m a staggering 5′ 1.5″ (and the .5” is very important)! As frustrating as it is for me at times (particularly when I want something off the top shelf at the grocery store), I can’t deny that my “under-tallness” isn’t frustrating for my spouse too.
They got little noses and tiny little teeth
They wear platform shoes on their nasty little feet
Last night, we attended Little Guy’s Art Show, where he shared his creations from Art Camp. It meant wolfing down cold pizza and rushing out the door as soon as Hubby got home from work. According to the map given in the show’s flyer, the Senior Center where it was being held, was just north of a particular intersection. But when we drove by, it was nowhere to be seen. In addition, the big green “P” for parking led us to nowhere too. I told Hubby to park 3 blocks away at a Community Center and we’d walk.
By the time we got parked, we were late. Which meant walking quickly, in heels…and keeping up to Hubby, which was impossible. After half a block, sweating profusely with my legs and lungs screaming, I gave up on the heels. There’s nothing quite like tearing through the downtown core at 6:30 on a summer’s eve, red heels in hand and with blackened bare feet, to attend a children’s art show! (And the Senior Center was just south of the intersection)
I kept up with Hubby, but he sighed heavily outside the doors of the Senior Center, while I struggled to put my shoes back on. And yes, I walked in bare feet back to the car too!
They got little cars that got beep, beep, beep
They got little voices goin’ peep, peep, peep
We have two cars, but only one driveway. Which means if Hubby is parked behind me, I either: a) move his car and thread the needle to pass it; or b) take his car. His car used to be my car, so the thought of driving it isn’t daunting. What’s daunting is the grumbling that follows after I’ve driven it. I try my very best to return the seat (and radio) to its original position, but I inevitably fail. It’s even worse when I fail to move the seat back at all and Hubby struggles to get in enough, knees in nose, to push it back. I’d laugh at his awkwardness if looks wouldn’t kill!
They got little baby legs and they stand so low
You got to pick ’em up just to say hello
Last weekend, my parents came up to help with some long overdue repairs. While Hubby and my Dad tackled some plumbing issues in the basement, my Mom and I tackled cleaning and reorganizing my kitchen cupboards (mostly the baking, tea and spice cupboards). But since it required reaching high places, too high even for the toddler stool I keep in the kitchen, I dragged a dining room chair into the tiny space.
Inevitably, the chair was in the way whenever Hubby or my Dad needed to drag something out the back door. More sighs… Eventually Mom and I just went shopping! That was way more fun!
Short people got no reason to live…
Travelling is never a joy because I possess a small bladder. Actually, I’ve had tests done and it’s normal size, just…overactive! And even though I abstain from all liquids for the duration of our travels, feeling like an sponge dried in the desert the whole time, I still have to pee. Often. My parents thought I had a bathroom festish when I was a kid because I needed to “go” so often. I have a sixth sense when it comes to finding a loo…anywhere…any time. Some would call it a gift. I’m sure Hubby calls it something else.
Short people are just the same as you and I
(A fool such as I)
All men are brothers until the day they die
(It’s a wonderful world)
Yes, it’s a wonderful world and we are uniquely made. But I…I am a teeny tiny challenge to my other half at times. I just have to keep reminding him that “good things come in small packages”.
Short People by Randy Newman • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing