One Of These Days

I was a bit disappointed when I got home from work.  The guitar book I'd ordered was supposed to get here today, only it wasn't here.  Sigh...At least I'll have something to look forward to Monday, I guess.

Beverly and James pulled through and stayed a couple of days on their way to Tennessee.  They were going to spend a couple of days in Memphis visiting Cody, then go on to see all the grandkids in...I can't remember where they live.  I ran by after work to visit with them a bit.

They've got a nice, new camper.  It's got recliners in it.  Seriously.  I was sitting in one, Beverly was filling me in on all the family gossip, and I was

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the whole time.  I finally got up to go, and said, "One of these days, we're going to have a good visit.  Today is not that day." 

I told them the kind of hours the plant has us on, and James said, "Good night!"  He wasn't wishing me pleasant dreams, either.

I went on and did my little bit of shopping, then came on home.  You know you live a sad life when the most exciting thing that happens is you get new sandals.

I don't buy new shoes that often, other than work boots that is, but it was time.  I can't even remember how long I'd had my last pair, and probably should have gotten rid of them after discovering that the cat had been peeing on them.  But no, I just washed them and kept on wearing them. 

I had an idea for another chapter in my autobiography.  It's going to deal with all these people who think I need to be fixed up, or married off.  There are several tales I'm going to tell, but I'll just share this one with you now.  Bear in mind, this is rough draft form.  OK, here we go.

Back in the day, there was a lady who worked out at the plant with us.  Her name was Betty.  Something was seriously wrong with her, I'm telling ya.  Everything anyone had ever done, she'd done it too, and she'd done it better.  For example, I'd mentioned to her I wanted to get Cody in karate when he was a little older.  He was 4ish at the time.  She said, "Oh, I can teach him karate.  I'm a black belt." 

Another time, she said she'd bought some land from the Corps of Engineers and was building a house right on the lake.  I asked around, and the Corps hadn't sold any land -- especially not any waterfront property. 

She was constantly bragging about how much money they had.  She told me her husband was the captain of the Exxon Valdez -- but not the one who spilled all that oil up in Alaska.  He's the other one.  I asked her once, if her husband has so much money, why is she working in a factory for $10 an hour?  She said it was to get away from her kids, because they think she's their do girl. 

Anyway, after I'd known her a few years, she decided I needed to be fixed up with her husband's...nephew?  Brother?  I don't remember.  He was some kin of her husband, and she decided we needed to get together.  She asked me for my phone number to give to him, but after talking to him a few times, I came to the conclusion he just wasn't right for me. 

Not too much later, she stopped me on the way out of the plant at the end of our shift and asked, "Are you ready to meet Delaney?"  That was his name. 

I said, "No, I just don't think he's right for me." 

She said, "Well, he's ready to meet you, and he's waiting outside." 

What the heck???  She actually tried to grab me by the arm and pull me outside.  It was quite a sight, me running in circles trying to get away from her, and her chasing me around the plant.  I finally got enough of a head start, and burst out the door, practically running across the parking lot to my car.

Betty came out side and shouted, "THERE SHE IS!  THAT'S HER!!!!"  pointing at me. 

Now, I would think if the person you are supposed to meet is running away from you, it should be a pretty strong hint, but this guy just didn't get it.

I'm scuttling across the parking lot as fast as I can, and Delaney comes bounding along behind me.  I make it to my car, get in, lock the door, and start the engine.  I almost made it.  Just as I was about to pull out and drive off, there he is, knocking on my driver's side window. 

I only wish I could find the words to adequately describe the look on my face...

He gestures for me to roll down the window, which I do part way, and reluctantly.  I don't even remember what he was talking about.  I listened to him yammer for a moment, then said,

"I ain't got time to talk right now.  I've got to go cut my grass."

Honest and for true. 

Look for it on Amazon -- someday...Imaginary Husbands Don't Cut Real Grass.

It'll be a best seller.