on knowing your audience

My foot was put in a boot yesterday.  A big, black, felt and plastic boot that makes stairs and subways resemble obstacle courses.  I knew it was coming, but wasn't really prepared for the annoyance of it all.  But I'm thankful it's just this and not something worse, so I am trying not to complain*.

Friday night, out with a friend, she asked me how the boot was going to fix the foot.  I told her that I thought it was meant to keep things stable enough so that the ligament would fuse back together.  I then said that when I thought of it meshing back together I couldn't help but imagine the scene in Avatar when they fuse their ponytails with the ponytails (probably not the technical term here) of their animals and then there I was, sitting at the table, acting it out with my fingers and making a sound that I thought best exemplified the fusing of ligaments.  She laughed, hard, and I joined in, thinking I was a pretty funny person.  Unfortunately, it is now apparent that I might might be the only one to think that.

Yesterday, sitting in the doctor's office, I told my doctor what I envisioned for my foot.  I laughed as I told her about Avatar and since it had been funny just two days before, I thought I'd share again, pretty sure I'd win her over** with my hilarity.  But she only stared blankly back at me and I detected the slightest eyebrow raise/eye roll and immediately wished I could disappear in a puff of embarrassment.  I really need to know my audience.  The doctor is not it.


See? Fusing. Just like ligaments.

*I am not going to complain, I am not going to complain, I am not going to complain...
**Yes, just a little strange that I want my medical professionals to like me.