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Why does it always happen?

4 mins read

By Lee Scott

Why does it always happen?  I try to look nice when I leave the house…hair brushed, clean slacks, nice shirt. But there are those days, when we have been working on the house and my husband will say, “Can you run to Grayco for me?  I leave the house wearing stained khakis, an old shirt covered with paint and my hair tied back, and then I pray that no one I know sees me. Of course, I see five people from my neighborhood…men looking like they stepped out of a GQ magazine and women with their hair done and manicured nails. “Not fair” my brain screams. “You are at a hardware store!”

But it always seems to happen, doesn’t it. I call them “Gotcha moments,” those times when you are just not prepared to see people you know when you are a mess or the house is a mess. My husband and I had one morning when we had been lying around just taking it easy. There were newspapers spread all over the floor, the kitchen sink filled with breakfast dishes;  the dogs old chewed up toys spread all over the house, and the doorbell rang. It was a neighbor who had been out of town and I had collected their mail. Why can’t people ever show up at my house when it is spotless and I am wearing a nice outfit?  Then there was the day when I was trying to get ready for a club meeting. There were boxes of trash placed on the front porch; old broken Christmas ornaments, packing boxes and burned out Christmas lights that my husband was going to take to the convenience center. As I greeted people at the door and saw the trash still on the porch he said, “You do realize it is Wednesday, right?”  The Convenience Center is closed.

Now there is a new “gotcha moment.”  Facetime and Skype! Video calls. I discovered it the other morning after my husband said. “Good morning Phyllis Diller!” My hair was sticking up like the old comedian with her wild hair. I had on an old bathrobe and the phone rang. It was my seven year old granddaughter calling on Facetime. Video Calls. Now one would think that looking as bad as I did that I would not have picked up that phone. But any Grandmother will tell you that one must pick up the phone when a grandchild calls, regardless if it is a video call and you look like Phyllis Diller. It got better on the call when I apologized for looking such a mess. She said, “Don’t worry Nina, you still look like you.”

So, if you stop by the house and Phyllis Diller answers the door, the house is  a mess and there are boxes on the front porch. Come on in. You got me. The coffee pot is on. It is still me.

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