Who, me?
Actually, while true in many contingencies and contexts . . .
I was typically afraid of my own shadow and certainly of my mother’s stern look and voice and particularly her WHACK! . . . But I did bend over once to pick up my towel once drying off in front of the old gas stove in the adobe mud hut . . . thankfully without resulting in a brand.
Praise God for all of His tender mercies. :)