Charm, Charles, is a trap.

There are some people that manage to come out of the most awkward situation unscathed. They are the blessed few that possess such high degrees of charm, self-assurance and charisma that they always leave a good impression behind.

Then there are others. Like me.

Two days a week, I have to wake up at stupid o’clock and clean an office building before the staff arrive at 8am. Usually a couple of over-enthusiastic ladies arrive around 7 or 7.30, but they tend to wear hiking boots with their office clothes, so I usually have no qualms about going to work in my gym clothes with bed hair and bleary eyes.

No qualms until now, that is.

Earlier this week, I was in an unusually cheerful mood at work, and was walking around with the vacuum cleaner singing “They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard”. You know, that piece of Youtube gold that goes like this:

So anyway, I was happily muttering “the hobbits, the hobbits, the hobbits, the hobbits to Isengard, to Isengard” when I heard a “Goedemorgen” behind me, turned around and came face to face with a super attractive guy in a suit. Being the alluring, captivating creature I am, I responded by pulling a face somewhat like this:

Mr Bean

I suppose I should consider it a win that I didn’t blurt “They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!” in his pretty face.

Having taken some time to recover from my embarrassment, I proceeded to vacuum along my merry way, assuming he had gone upstairs to his office. I barged into the kitchen to empty the trash, and barreled straight into him. I mumbled something incomprehensible, and as he left the room, started cackling hysterically at my own awkwardness.

I think it would take the intervention of a wizard to make me cool. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him!


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