A few Saturdays ago was filled with tasks such as cleaning the
shitters, vacuuming, dusting, taking out the trash and the obligatory 3+ hours
of yard work. It was a day I set aside
to take care of all my grown-up responsibilities that just had been staring me
in the face for days. The loads of dog
hair I swept up could have stopped a train dead on its tracks. And cleaning the toilets is always a good
time and reminds me that I am not yet royal enough to have the monarchy attend
to all my medial tasks. Needless, I was
committed to attending to my home rather than spending a gorgeous afternoon
patio-side drinking sangrias with friends watching college football.
But then I received an invite to (hold for it)….. to join a
group of girls consuming sangrias patio-side. Of course, I dropped my cleaning sponge like a bad
habit, jumped in the shower and spent some time in the mirror fighting with my
hair. And then I spent some more time in
the mirror screaming at my hair and berating it to death in
disappointment. It was just one of those
days where what ever I tried, my head of faux brunetteness wasn’t going to
cooperate.
Fast-forward two hours, 2 shots and 2 sangrias in. I have forgotten about my rat’s nest head of
hair and kibitzing with a group of funny gal pals. College sports make me happy and so does the
blanco queso served with warm tortilla chips.
Part of the group dwindled due to family responsibilities and children
to tend to at home. The remaining
warriors and I moved on to another locale with visions of filling our wine
glasses with quenching new wines.
Throughout the afternoon I had befriended one of the ladies in our group
who I respectfully referred to as the Cougar.
She was hilarious, pretty, straightforward, divorced and holds a
powerful job. We hit it off immediately
and began exchanging jokes and camaraderies.
So on we went. We ran
into a fine gent who stopped to give us a lift and befriend us in the 4 blocks
it took to drive to the next watering hole.
He was good looking. He was
charming. He was my age. He was personable. He was well groomed. Did I mention he was my age? He was also more interested in the cougar in
our group than holding a conversation with me about well, anything. Maybe I had food in my teeth or a booger
hanging out or something? She had charm,
she had confidence and she had great one-liners. She told me right out of the gate she was
going in for the kill and that I needed to layoff. I didn’t realize chics marked their
territories so quickly. Apparently,
those of the feline species do.
Even if I were
interested in him, I had struck out before getting up to bat.
I don’t mess with cats.
