I am not entirely sure which of those days this particular day is. I do know that there is some reason to think that perhaps I should have stayed in bed, preferably wrapped in bubble wrap and wearing a muzzle.
I started the day with a blue eye. Not black and blue. Just blue. Hence the bubble wrap. I was dressed and beautifying when I learned an important lesson involving cosmetic application and sleepy 7 year old boys. I was delicately applying liquid liner in a lovely, electric blue when the aforementioned child stumbled into me. Instantly, the eye was flooded with the very same lovely, electric blue. Wearing a contact only helped the situation. Please note sarcasm in the previous statement. The actual truth? It stung and it hurt like a mofo. It was not pleasant. 10 minutes later, the contact and my eye were once again blue-free. Delightful.
Then came the grocery store. I don’t think either bubble wrap or the muzzle (to be discussed in a moment) would have helped this particular situation. As I stood in front of the cereal, 2 of the Price Chopper girls came down the aisle, stopping a few feet from me. I am pretty sure that I was both complimented and insulted within the same conversation. One of them commented that she missed my normally crazy colored hair. That was the compliment, to which I responded that it would be crazy again in a few more days. The other girl looked me over from head to toe, and back again. Then she informed me that I was “fearless” in how I dressed “and stuff” for a woman of “my age”. Uh, WTF?! I’m 40, not 80. And what is wrong with how I am dressed. I am wearing an ankle-length “hippy” skirt in white with blues, greens and turquoises. I have on a white tank and a kelly green zip hoodie & matching flip flops. Scandalous I am not. She had a particular problem with my hair, if I read her face snarl correctly. It’s light blonde and chin-length and is currently pulled back into 2 short, punk pigtails. Again, scandalous I am not. The girl will probably have apoplexy when she sees my upcoming weird hair.
Then I came home and had a conversation,…
New neighbor: Is that your truck?
Me (sitting in said truck): Nope, I stole it. <sarcastic laughter>
New neighbor: Seriously? I’m calling the cops.
Me: I was just kidding! Really, it’s mine.
New neighbor: I don’t believe you. I’m calling the cops.
Me: It was a joke.The police left my house just a little while ago.
I learned a lesson from it. Never pull a Jeff Foxworthy “here’s your sign” on people that don’t know you.