It’s a dance they have us do, by law, in fact. One of the two steps is more imperative, by which I mean enforced, so you can wind up a ways off in one direction if you let them let you slide. One step, the truly necessary one, comes like clockwork, can be counted upon. There is a right time. The second step is something we’re told to ask to be asked to do. I tend to avoid bothering, which is why I’m way over here, having stepped so many times this way without ever stepping back.
When, on a whim, under the weight of neglected responsibility I do at last ask, they insist upon immediately performing each missed step in succession, under scrutiny, with additional attention paid to form. They even get in my way, sending obstacles, competing vectors, angle-defying lines. I do it, though. I triumph. The increased difficulty contributes to the accomplishment. It may not be perfect, but it meets every criterion, of which there are many, many of which are spitefully imposed. I do the dance that they insisted I do while exerting every effort to prevent me from doing it.
Thankfully, because of the assumption of my entertaining failure, my unexpectedly adequate performance is documented in somewhat thorough detail. This record is shuffled and filed, but thankfully I have secured and will continue to bask in the glory of a facsimile, a testament to my neglected yet persevering ability to do each part of an involuntary physical expression.