The Hook

The catchy bit of that pop song.

Absurdly large implement to remove that performer who is bombing on stage.

Old fashioned, but terribly useful clasp for clothes (or gates), when paired with an eye.

To catch or be caught on something, literally or figuratively.

On a day when I broke the lanyard off my work ID and nearly ripped a sleeve off my shirt because these items got hooked on a chair arm and a door handle respectively, I couldn’t help but wonder if these snags might be a metaphor for my life.

The theme here is not ‘woe is me’ -aside from the occasional scare with an expensive electronic, the hitches have not brought tragedy- but ‘why is me?’ In spite of knowing better I as good as court these hang ups.

Dresses, long skirts, stockings (made to snag, am I right?); shirts with ‘romantic’ sleeves (or hems or collars), or sashes or bows (sounding like a bit of a priss aren’t I?); scarves and wraps with fringe or open weave; shoes with laces. And the primary offenders: work ID lanyard, headphone cords, my abundant curly hair.

Looking at that list I am enormously grateful I have not broken more iPods, zippers, or teeth. And I ask, with no little bit of joy and surprise, why is there always some bit of me hanging out in the world trailing along ready to get looped around something?

You can pick your own moral: Don’t sweat the small stuff; it’s all small stuff. A stitch in time saves nine. Safety first (clearly not heeding that one). Don’t worry, be happy. Constant vigilance. Oops I did it again.

I choose to see it as leaving the door open for Kismet. As an introvert who plans compulsively (and, indeed, professionally) the blackout curtains are drawn pretty tight against spontaneity and vulnerability. Some allegorical bit of me dangling out there to get caught on the world, while frequently an (amusing) inconvenience, forces me to pause and for a moment be surprised and genuinely emotional about: the spilled guts of my phone, my ripped shirt, the earring caught in my scarf and accidentally flung away, the interruption of my favorite song.  And honestly, I need as many dress rehearsals as I can get for being open to life as it comes.

So there’s my silver lining. Of course, I can’t discount that I may be an oaf.

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