My first try was 9 seconds. My second try was 20-something seconds. My third try? Ah, a full minute.
Pretty good for a heavy-set old lady balancing on one foot. My left foot, too. And, that isn't even my dominant side.
"What are you doing over there?" asked the husband as he was washing the lunch dishes.
"I'm seeing how long I can stand on one foot," I said, setting the timer on the refrigerator door.
"Why?" he asked, not turning around.
"Because you never know when our survival depends on me being able to balance on one foot."
He laughed. Of course. I did, too. "When could that happen?"
"Say a crook holds us hostage in a bank. He'll only let us go if an old lady can stand on one foot for five minutes."
"Like that could happen," the husband said, rinsing the dishes.
"You never know," I said. "I want to be ready for any event. There could be a Survivor for the older crowd. Now, I'm going to try to stand for one minute on my right foot."
The husband suddenly stood behind me. He said, "I want to see how long I can do it."
I set the timer for a minute. "Are you ready?"
"Wait. . . Okay."
Three seconds later his foot went down. "I'm trying again. Just keep going."
Almost 25 seconds.
Ding. One minute on my bum right ankle. Hurrah!
"It's not as easy as it looks," the husband mumbled, going back to the dishes.
"Not to worry," I said. "I shall save us."
Next time, I'll try to balance on one foot for two minutes. No, make that one minute, 15 seconds. No need to go all out crazy about it.