Hot summer days in Texas. Gotta love ’em. Not just any heat, mind you. A heat that comes from the ground up and from the atmosphere down in a miserable swirling convection. The moist (my least favorite word) heavy air makes you sweat profusely from every pore and also from places you didn’t know you could. Ladies, you can relate. As a woman, I pride myself on being able to make myself presentable when the occasion calls for it, and today was no exception. Hair, make-up, dress, heeled sandals were all up to par and I was truly ready to pound some pavement.
The goal was to invite as many neighbors to my Saturday afternoon Open House in Fort Worth. So door after door and driveway after driveway, I soldiered on. There were friendly neighbors, strange neighbors, scary doorbells, dogs mistaken for horses, and a home that smelled like cat pee. (I didn’t stop at that one) I made it all the way down to the end of the
street with just three more homes left when I saw a black SUV drive past with peculiar intention.
I started to mumble under my breath, “No, no, no, no. It’s early. Don’t stop. Oh crap, they’re parking.”
I immediately pivot and hauled my high heeled behind down the street at full speed. I began to visualize myself moving in slow motion. This was not a glamorous Bo Derek run in the sand with music playing in the background. It more closely resembled a lame survivor attempting escape from a zombie horde.
Rule #1 from Zombieland. Cardio
As if this graceful scene lacked substance, a giant burst of boiling hot air began to swirl around my legs and then shot up into my dress. My mortifying Monroe moment was not lacking an audience, for this street housed a good many over 60 retirees who pride themselves on their Saturday putterings. Ladies and gentlemen, I just gave the neighborhood a good old fashioned peep show. What was probably just a few seconds after a ridiculous failed attempt, my dress seemed to float in a bubble of hot air for what seemed like an indecent amount of time.
Alice in Wonderland, you have nothing on me with your lame tree trunk adventures. Floating on your laurels and a dress full of petticoats is not a hardship when compared to a mishap such as this. I’d like to join you for a drink of that labeled toxic elixir, for I have just traded professionalism with notoriety of the unsavory variety.
<sigh> Oh well, I wonder if I’ll get some calls?