This morning was wet, drippy, and I TRUDGED, yes, TRUDGED, to the cafeteria for breakfast. My backpack, fully loaded with books for an eight-hour shift, pulled me backward while 2.5 heels tipped me forward. There was no other way to walk up the sidewalk, except click, click, TRUDGE, click, click, TRUDGE. Hunched over like the misfit from Notre Dam, I was the epitome of “trudge,” a modern-day 3D business women, TRUDGING to breakfast.
Two weeks ago, I experienced a similar revelation. The school’s spring musical showcased a gray-haired boarding house matron, who walked on stage, halfbent over, with her elbows AKIMBO, her face lined with years and worry. In a small town musical, AKIMBO appeared before my eyes, completely personified by the skilled actress. It was AKIMBO in the flesh.
Sometimes, some days, vocabulary leaps out of Roget’s Thesaurus and just happens.