Try not to cry.
It was awful! The dish had leaked onto my lap without me noticing it! HOW is that possible? HOW did this happen to me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I stand there on the sidewalk, looking down at my pants, which are soaked only in one very embarrassing area. Um, really? I look like I just had a very unfortunate accident. Which I did, I guess. Jeff is just looking at me like, Is this really happening? I know you are now going to have a meltdown.
I go inside, feeling myself losing it. I tell the woman at the house, "Nisha, I need a hairdryer and towel. Now." I tell her husband, Mike, "Please don't talk to me." One of the other moms at the house says, "Do you need some pants?"
Um, yes. But though I brought baby Lincoln clothes to change into, I did not, in fact, think to bring myself a change of clothes.
I am speaking to a group of people in a few minutes and I am feeling anxious and I am now soaked in pork juice. IS THIS NIGHT HAPPENING TO ME? I spend the next ten minutes blow-drying my jeans in the bathroom, trying not to erupt in hysterical, insane laughter, followed by weeping. I blow-dry the jeans, realize the huge stain is just as bad, so I have to rinse the stain then blow-dry again. All while knowing dinner is in like five minutes and the main course is in my car (and on me, come to think of it). We leave and go to the small-group leaders' house down the street. I am trying not to think about the now-faint, huge, unfortunate stain left by the liquid, and the slight dampness happening as a result of being soaked by your dinner. MORTIFIED, is one way to describe my feelings.
We arrive and it's time to eat. Obviously, I am now the most popular person to our hosts' dog, who smells the pork on me. He stayed next to me for most of the meal. Awesome. Then it comes time for me to speak. We pray before, and seriously, I am just trying to shake off the feelings that have come over me. Talk about feeling overwhelmed.
As for my 30-minute talk . . . you know those moments where you think back over what you said later and you're like, Really? Am I crazy? Yes, that was me tonight.
Jeff assures me that I did fine and it was an interesting story. I can only try to believe him for the sake of my sanity. What else can I do? Think about getting out of the car and realizing I'm covered in pork juice?