Weirdness prevails....
This is a snapshot of my morning. Can anyone relate?
This has been a really strange morning. There must be sunspots or something. I had finally psyched myself up to turning into Miz Clean and doing the White Tornado—a major dragging out of stuff, sorting and classifying, getting rid of, and applying a generous application of elbow grease to every available surface, and generally "policing up the area" (a military term meaning 'I'd better be able to bounce a quarter off your bunk, soldier.") In other words—clean up my condo because I can't stand it anymore.
So I've applied Crest White Strips to my teeth, I'm clad in a really ratty tee shirt (no bra) and shorts, I'm sweating like a horse, I'm wielding a mop and a bucket of Pine Sol, and I decide to take a break to answer a call of nature. No sooner have I plopped myself down to "take a whiz" than there is a loud banging on my front door, which sets off my alarm system—better known as Gomez, the Killer Chihuahua.
What to do—there are some things that can't be cut off in midstream, so to speak, especially if you're in your sixties and have borne children. So I scream at the top of my lungs..."Just a minute!" Gomez is in hysterics because it is his duty to dig his way through the door and devour whomever is out there.
So, I finally am in a position to sprint to the door, figuring it's one of my neighbors or my son, who has promised to come over today and install a new deadbolt lock for me. One of the cats intercepts me mid-sprint by dashing between my legs, tripping me up, and I sprawl into the dog gate I have propped up to keep Gomez from pissing in the hallway. (Ladies whiz...dogs and men piss). I go down in a clatter of dog gate and crazed chihuahua. Ouch! More bruises to add to the ones I've already got.
By the time I get to the door, I'm foaming at the mouth from the Crest White Strips, which have hydrogen peroxide as the main ingredient. I fling open the door and it's a flock of Jehovah's Witnesses, their arms filled with Watchtowers and other literature. One smiles at me radiantly and inquires, "Are you busy...did we catch you at a bad time?"
I smiled at them, foamingly, and said, Yes I was busy and I did not have time to talk to them, thankyouverymuch and godblessyouall, have a nice day.
I totally forgot the spiel I had vowed to use the next time the JW descended upon me, which was to to say, "Yes, please come in...you're just in time to help me sacrifice a goat in the bathtub!"