The Walk of Shame . . .

I was a member of a sorority in college and lived in the sorority house for a few years. With pretty strict rules about visitors, food and drink in the house, we often found ourselves out and about on a Friday or Saturday night.

On occasion, one or two ladies might find themselves out late without a safe ride home, so they'd stay the night where they were and come home in the morning.

That mid-morning walk through the bright light of our common room, wearing the same clothes from the night before could be highly embarrassing.

We called it, “The walk of shame.”

I'm several years outside of college now, married, two children, but I felt that familiar feeling once again last week. At my local public library.

It started out innocently enough. I'd been going to the library pretty regularly through the winter. I had several books out and with the different check-out dates and renewals had about three different due dates looming.

Then, the perfect storm of library situations occurred. The babies were sick. We had days of terrible weather, making the roads impassable, let alone the sidewalk leading up to the library from the parking lot. When the babies weren't sick, we had below zero temps so we stayed home. Then, when we finally made it out of doors, priorities like groceries superceded errands like the library. We didn't make it back in library doors for at least six weeks.

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