I Feel Stupid

So this past Friday I went down to a city about an hour south of where I work for a meeting. The Postal Service was kind enough to let me use a company car. On the way back I stopped at a rest area for a quick jaunt to the men's room, only to realize when I went to leave that I had locked my keys in the car.

Boy, did that make me feel stupid.

Over the last couple of days I've been taking an informal poll of family and friends about what kind of things make them feel stupid. I've discovered not many people like to talk about it.

My wife says she feels stupid when her tongue stumbles over simple words that she suddenly has a hard time pronouncing. She also one time - early in our marriage, when she was still feeling her way around in the kitchen - put in a cup of salt for a recipe that called for a teaspoon of salt. Mmm, mmm, not-so-good.

A friend of my daughter's says she feels stupid when she forgets the names of people she's supposed to know.

I've put my slippers on the wrong feet before. "Why do these feel so funny?" I asked myself. Then I looked down. "Oh."

Then there was one time in college, when I was playing a role in T.S. Eliot's "Murder in the Cathedral" and my costume was, literally, a gigantic old rug the costume department found somewhere, cut out some holes for arms and head, then added a few fabric gimgaws and doodads. It turned out looking pretty cool, but it was a nightmare to walk in and maneuver around the stage. After one performance, when I came out for my curtain call, I took a step forward to bow elegantly, stepped on the hem of the rug and fell flat on my face.

Yet another experience of feeling stupid.

So tell me, what makes YOU feel stupid?