Line dancing is not as easy as it looks. I’d always kind of harbored a suspicion that I might be a secret dancing savant. Not line dancing per se, but just—from all the moves I’d busted in the kitchen while cooking over the years—I’d nursed a secret fantasy that maybe, if I ever really tried to dance, I’d astonish us all. Ten minutes into that chance, I stood corrected. I was not secretly awesome. I was terrible. We’d need a more humiliating word for terrible.
