Everyone came running at the sound of broken ceramics. I wanted to slink away, but I was more or less caught hoop-handed. One of the store volunteers got an eye load of the hoop, which had come apart as it was whirling around my hips only to boomerang over to the shelf with flower pots.
Him: What's that??? (meaning the hoop)
Me: It's a fitness hoop.
Him: What do you do with it?
Me: It's for exercise.
I picked up the broken pot feeling like a total dumb ass.
Me: Hey, is there a safe place I can test out this thing to see if it'll stay together.
Him: (not unkindly...I think he was still trying to grasp the idea of this giant, multicolored, foam hula hoop being used for exercise). How 'bout in furniture?
Furniture. I would have thought over by the clothes, but hey, what do I know?
Me and the broken hoop went over to furniture. My husband appeared as if from nowhere. "What did you do?" he said.
Me: I broke a pot. It (I meant the hoop) came apart and crashed into stuff. (I held up the non-hoop for emphasis).
The hubs: I should have known.
I snapped the hoop back together and sure enough, I hadn't done it properly the first time. I whirled it round my waist and the store volunteer said, "Now ya got it!"
The furniture section remained unscathed. Fancy that.
The last time I broke something at the same thrift store, I was moving a bag of stuffed animals that caused another bag of stuffed animals to roll onto the back of a propped-up picture frame which fell over onto a vase which wiped out a whole bunch of ceramic knick-knacks. Aiiiigh!
I'm surprised they even let me in the door. I'm like a bull in a china shop.