Went to the local convenience store for eggs this morning, making up a breakfast for me and the boy. Paid no heed to any sort of grooming, other than attempting to wet down the strange animal which has curled up on my head and called itself hair. My comfy jacket (with it's frayed sleeves) over a comfy sweater (with ketchup on the zipper). Sunny day, only 100 yards or so away from the house. Passing by two people on their way to work.
"Hey, that lady married me!" says the gent, waving and smiling at me. A groom, I remember the wedding well, he and his bride were beautiful, I was considerably better dressed. I grin back and wave, frayed sleeve held aloft, likely crumbs on my face from a piece of pre-breakfast toast I'd been excited about. Possibly a blob of marmalade between my teeth.
Walking away I thought, really shouldn't leave the house looking so disheveled. I've officiated ceremonies for enough people that running into them here and there is becoming more common. I mean, I will leave the house looking pre-rumpled, possibly in a house coat now and again, but I really, really shouldn't.
No comments:
Post a Comment