Another WTF Monday

So we are all huggy when we see each other out and about AT WORK. In my real life…well, my real life is not all that fascinating. I had a shot of cream sherry with dinner and was out like a light. It sometimes amazes me that Darling was such a drinker and I am so not. In fact,when he crawled into bed, I told him that stuff was going to kill me. Not for me clubby evenings drinking and smoking dope. I’m pretty vanilla.

I’m totally vanilla. No wild past, present or future.

So I’m sitting at the MRI center almost open mouthed with amazement.A really truly little old (old old old) lady is at the front desk and she says her birthdate quite clearly. She is four months older than I am. She is darling, in a little old (old old old) lady way. She has on her poly print shirt and matching little top and her pastel poly pants and the pastel flats. And there I am, in my jean, white cotton shirt and red sandals, red toes.

So I’m digging in my bag for some lipstick and someone sits down next to me, puts his arms around me and gives me a hug. It’s not my brother, because he would never have made such a quiet entrance. It’s a guy from work. Big buff much younger guy from the CERT team. He used to be my escort when I would go into the tiger cages. Hasn’t seen me for a while, where have I been?

Well, where the heck has he been? He tore up something on his thigh, playing a pickup game. Then. like every boy I’ve ever know, showed me all of the other things he’s torn up. So what was I doing here? Where was I working? Well, I’m not working.I tore up my shoulder.
Oooh, playing softball? Honestly,do I look like a softball player? I look like maybe I do my nails but any kind of athletic sweating stuff? Count me out.You can get hurt doing that stuff. (My hang-gliding, skiiing, rappelling trying-to-kill-myself-days are over. When I see that stuff on television, all I can think of is WOW, that looks like it would hurt!) So we talked for about fifteen minutes and then he gives me HIS CARD.Maybe we could hook up,while we are both off work.

Then he goes in for his MRI and moments later, Darling comes out.
What was in Mr. Buff’s HEAD?
Stop me.
I know what was in his head.
It’s the same thing they think about every 17 seconds from the time they are twelve.
It must be exhausting, all that thinking.

I know I certainly have a lot more going on in my head then the same thoughts, every 17 seconds.

And then we went home, I fixed beef tips in gravy, twice baked potatoes and apple blossoms for dinner.

I worked with men for the last 13 years. I have not had to buy so much as a cup of coffee for myself, much less lunch for 13 years. And here, I just thought they were being polite.

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