Was just going out to drop off some donations from my crazy re-organization cleaning sweep extravaganza but ended up coming back with a pint of honey, some ciders, a little mini skirt, a floor-length green skirt, and yet another dumb plaid button-up shirt. The law of my reasonable closet is that if I'm adding this many things in, I need to take some things out, so I'll go upstairs tonight and look through what I need to get rid off to make space for these indulgences.
When I was in the shop buying the cider, they were actually closed doing inventory, but I blundered in like a goon. When they said they were closed, I tried to embarrass-backward-walk out of the store, but the lady insisted that I stay and get what I had come for. But I'd only come in to look! Then I felt like I needed to buy something, so her good favor was not wasted on my indecision.
When I'd finished purchasing my shame cider, she said, "Wait a minute--I know you! You used to work at that coffee shop." I froze up. For a shy moron such as myself, this was becoming an increasingly stressful encounter. "You live downtown, and you have this skirt that is embroidered and has sewn-on little mirrors and it's bright pink!" (All this is true.) I said, you know, yep. It was the second time in a week that someone I didn't know at all recognized me. (Last time it was "Ohhh, you're that Jess." Not super inspiring.) The old man who was the assistant manager or something nodded. He said, "If they're talking about you, you're probably doing something right."
I don't know, old man, I don't know.
Be right back, going to C-ville.
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